Last Resort
by Patrice J
Summary: The Doctor, Tegan, and Turlough attempt to find some much needed peace on one of the most tranquil planets in the galaxy...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ I'm just borrowing the characters, which are, of course, the property of the BBC.

_Note: _This story is set immediately after "Enlightenment."

Chapter 1

"Hideous," he murmured.

The artificial lighting cast a strange glow on his face. His fair complexion seemed nearly translucent, and he almost thought that he could see the veins coursing beneath his skin. He felt exposed, splayed open to the world. Now they knew.

Turlough turned away from the mirror, fairly sickened by his reflection. He shut off the faucet and dried his hands carefully on a white towel. He had been hunched over the sink to splash his face, and as he straightened a dull ache seemed to pinch at the base of his skull. He rubbed his hand over the area, momentarily surprised by the small swelling he felt beneath his fingers. He had forgotten about hitting his head as he fell in the ship's hallway. His hand dropped to his side for an instant, then he reached for his tie to loosen it. He pulled back his collar to reveal four small bruises on the left side of his neck. Eyes darting quickly to the door, he secured the top button then pushed the tie back into place before realizing that he no longer needed to hide the marks the Black Guardian had left upon him. The Doctor and Tegan knew; they had witnessed his choice.

He emerged from the bathroom and walked slowly down the hall. He had escaped Tegan's questions and the Doctor's vaguely sympathetic looks by hurrying to the lavatory as soon as they returned to the TARDIS. However, at some point he would have to face them, to help the Doctor set the coordinates for Trion if nothing else. That thought—the memory of his home—led him to the console room with deliberate if somewhat dilatory steps.

He found the Doctor lying on his back, knees bent and head hidden beneath a tangle of wires that spilled from the control panels. Turlough permitted himself a moment of solace when he discovered that Tegan was not in the room. He drew a deep breath.

"Doctor."

"Hmm?" The Time Lord's reply was slightly muffled by the wires all around him.

"Was it badly damaged?"

The Doctor slid out from beneath the console and sat up to look at Turlough. "Badly? I suppose the TARDIS has had worse scrapes than this."

"But all those wires—"

The Doctor shoved a cluster of yellow and green wiring back beneath the console. "Oh, this? It's not really necessary for operating her. I was just having a look around." He hopped to his feet and bent over the instrumentation, tapping at his chin with his finger.

"How long until we can start the journey then?"

"Not long." He looked up. "I'll have you back home soon."

Again Turlough saw that odd expression. Perhaps it wasn't entirely one of sympathy. Was there anger beneath the surface? Turlough rubbed at the back of his neck; the dull ache had not diminished.

"—year that you left."

"Pardon?" Turlough had not realized that the Doctor was speaking to him.

"I'll need to know the year that you left."

Turlough nodded. "Of course—"

The distinct and purposeful click of heels in the hallway drew his attention away from the console. Turlough took a step back toward the wall and rubbed harder at his neck.

Tegan entered the room. She glanced quickly at the Doctor then fixed her gaze on Turlough. He saw her brow furrow and her mouth harden slightly as she opened it halfway. For an instant her eyes met his before he lowered his head. He heard her take another step.

"How long until we land?" she asked the Doctor.

"I have a few minor repairs to finish," he replied. "It may be an hour or so."

"Then you're taking him home?"

"Yes."

Turlough could not interpret the Doctor's tone. He almost sounded regretful.

Tegan turned to Turlough. "So you knew he was involved?" she asked with a frown.

Turlough's hand dropped to his side. "Yes."

"And it didn't occur to you to tell us about this Black Guardian? You must have known that he was dangerous—" she began.

"I didn't have any choice." Turlough nearly cringed at the pleading tone of his voice. His hand crept up to his neck again, fingers pressing hard at the rigid muscles. "He said he'd kill me if I didn't do as he wanted."

"And if you'd told us, we could have helped you." Tegan crossed her arms over her chest. "But instead you put us all in danger—"

"I just wanted to go home." He sounded pathetic, even to himself. Turlough's fingers dug into his flesh.

"Well, I guess you're getting your wish," she said tartly. "But I still don't understand why you didn't just ask the Doctor when we first met." She turned toward the Time Lord. "You would have taken him, right?"

The Doctor looked up with a slight frown. "Of course."

"It doesn't matter now," Turlough said, eyes once again on the floor. "In a couple of hours this will all be behind me—that ridiculous, idiotic boys' school, Mawdryn, Striker—"

Tegan seemed to wince at the mention of the Edwardian ship's captain. "You could have gotten the Doctor killed." Her voice was dark.

Turlough's fingers could not dig deeply enough to reach the aching muscles. "I didn't mean—"

"That's enough." The Doctor's voice was firm. "This isn't going to be fixed any faster with you two standing here bickering."

Turlough turned quickly. "I'll be in my room when you're ready for the location and dates." He walked out into the hallway, willfully ignoring the complaints issuing from Tegan beyond the open door.

* * *

The Doctor looked up from the console when Tegan paused to take a breath.

"He did choose the White Guardian," he reminded her.

"I know, but until then what was he thinking? He knew about the Black Guardian and he didn't tell us!"

"I believe he knows that he made a mistake."

"But still—"

The Time Lord sighed and tapped his fingers on a panel. "Tegan, you've shared your feelings with me—at least half a dozen times in the last fifteen minutes. I'm well aware that you're angry with Turlough. I could remind you, however, that he tried to keep you safe on Terminus."

Tegan relented slightly. "I suppose. But the Black Guardian was involved in the whole race and the prize, wasn't he? And that means that Turlough was involved too, and if he hadn't been we wouldn't have been on that awful ship with that horrible Captain Striker and that creepy Marriner, and all that prying around inside my memories and mind—"

"Ah."

The Doctor's simple expression stopped Tegan for a moment. She waited for him to elaborate, but he merely returned his attention to the console. Finally, she spoke again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He glanced up, clearly preferring to devote his energies to the repairs. "The Eternals upset you."

"Of course they did! The way they use people is terrible."

"I agree— No, that's supposed to be blue!" He punched at a flashing key with a frown.

"He said he was fascinated with my mind. That's the first time anyone's used that line on me. But he just wanted to see inside—to watch my thoughts and memories for his own entertainment."

The Doctor had bent again to peer beneath the console. She waited a few seconds for him to respond to her words, but he remained silent.

"Doctor?"

"What is it, Tegan?" he replied rather shortly.

"It's just—he was only interested in what he could see in my mind. He wasn't interested in me as a person at all." As she spoke, her voice grew quieter.

She stood for over a minute anticipating some comment from her companion, but the only sounds in the room were faint taps and clicks from underneath the console. Finally Tegan turned and walked toward the door, pausing once to see if the Doctor would notice her departure. His head remained hidden in the machinery at the base of the center rotor. She stalked out of the room.

* * *

Tegan had tried to nap, but her thoughts raced over the events on Striker's ship. Images of the other ships exploding with their hapless human crews chilled her, and finally she left her room to make some tea. Still preoccupied with her thoughts, she walked into the kitchen and reached for a mug before realizing that Turlough sat hunched in one of chairs at the small metal table in the center of the room. An untouched cup of tea rested in front of him.

"Oh," she said automatically.

He looked up, obviously immersed in his own musings. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck as he lifted his head. "I'll leave," he said, beginning to rise.

She shrugged. "I'm only going to be a minute." Quickly she filled the mug with water and set it in the microwave. She looked for a moment at the tins of loose tea but reached for a teabag instead.

Turlough lowered himself back onto the chair. In a few seconds the microwave beeped, and Tegan removed the mug. After dropping the small bag into the steaming water, she turned to walk back to the door. Turlough's head was bent, and his hand moved back and forth over the back of his neck. As she passed him, she saw that the skin below his hair was ruddy.

"What's the matter with you neck?" she asked rather sharply.

He lifted his head. "Nothing."

"It's all red."

"I just had an itch."

She shrugged again and left the room.

Turlough stared at the cup and its long-cooled contents for several minutes as his hand crept back up to rub again at his stiff and aching muscles.

Tegan nursed her tea for nearly half an hour, idly flipping through the sketchbook on the desk in her room. She had turned a few doodles into full-fledged drawings, and now she glanced at the clusters of flowers and faces that decorated the pages. For an instant she was surprised to see the image of Turlough on a back page. She had forgotten that she sketched him several weeks ago. She finished her tea and left the room.

"Doctor," she said, entering the console room.

He stood beside the console, leaning into the center rotor. He did not acknowledge her. She could see the dark, smoke-stained patches on the sturdy plastic casing.

"It's not fixed yet?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "No."

"How long 'til we can get him to his planet?"

"I don't know. There's more damage here than I thought. Some of the resistors from the comparator have been destroyed."

Tegan shook her head. "The console did blow up," she reminded him.

"I'm well aware of that!"

She lingered by the door for several seconds. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

He looked up at her briefly. "No, Tegan."

"I could bring you some tea."

He was squinting through a crack on the rotor. "Hmm?"

"Some tea, Doctor."

"Oh." He waved a hand in her general direction. "Perhaps later."

Tegan returned to her room and spent a few minutes straightening the items on the vanity then went to work on the desk. The empty mug was the final bit of clutter to deal with. She swept it up and headed for the kitchen.

Turlough still sat at the table. His left elbow rested on the metal top, his forehead against his palm. His right hand moved slowly and almost rhythmically over his neck. The untouched cup remained before him.

Tegan considered walking past the room. She could return the mug later. However, Turlough's posture drew her attention for a moment. He was slumped over, motionless save for the movement of the hand at the base of his neck. He looked utterly defeated.

She stepped into the kitchen. "I can warm that up for you," she said briskly.

He glanced up with pale, languid eyes. "Don't go to any trouble."

"I won't."

Nevertheless, she took the mug and slipped it into the microwave, tapping her fingers against the glass on the door during the few seconds required for heating. She removed the mug and set it in front of him.

"Thanks," he muttered. He did not touch the mug.

"The least you can do is drink it," she said rather impatiently.

He shrugged and lowered his hands to the table to grasp the cup. When he bent his head forward to take a sip, Tegan saw the chafed skin at the base of his neck.

"Your neck is still red," she reproved. "Are you still fussing at it?"

He nearly dropped the cup to the table and clapped his hand over the reddened skin.

She leaned in slightly. "Is it a rash? Did you touch something weird on Captain Wrack's ship?" she asked suspiciously.

"No! It's nothing."

She reached up quickly to pull aside his collar. The bruises on the side of his neck stood out lividly against his fair skin. She remembered that she had seen marks beneath his collar when she and the Doctor found him unconscious in the ship's hallway.

"Where did you get these?" she asked, resting her fingers against one of the bruises. She could feel the rigidity of his muscles even against her light touch.

He brushed her hand away roughly. "I told you I slipped and fell."

"No. Those aren't from falling—"

He stood abruptly, bumping the table and jarring the mug onto its side. "Fine. He gave them to me."

"Who? The Black Guardian?"

"Yes!" he snapped. "The Black Guardian did it. He wanted to kill me—he planned to kill me."

"He tried to strangle you?"

Turlough shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Pretty soon I'll be back home and none of this will matter."

He turned abruptly and stalked out into the hallway, leaving Tegan standing in the wake of the tea that dripped off of the table and onto her shoes.

"Rabbits," she murmured, grabbing a towel to sop up the liquid. When she had finished she hurried out into the hallway, but Turlough had disappeared.

Tegan walked past his room, but the door was open and he was not inside. She went to the console room, where the Doctor was up under the center panel again. She had half expected to find Turlough leaning against one of the walls, but he was absent.

"Doctor," she said, stepping toward the console.

His head was hidden beneath the wires. "Hmm?" was his phlegmatic response.

"The Black Guardian tried to kill Turlough. Those marks on his neck—the ones I saw when we found him lying in the hallway—were from the Black Guardian trying to strangle him."

The Doctor's head appeared momentarily. "Yes?" His tone indicated little interest in the topic.

"Why didn't he tell us? The Black Guardian was there on the ship. If we'd known we might have figured out sooner that something was going on."

The Time Lord ducked under the console again without responding.

"But Doctor!" Tegan protested. "Turlough put us in danger."

"Something that you have done on occasion, too," he reminded her.

"I got scared—but I never wanted anyone to get hurt."

The Doctor's head appeared again. "We don't know that Turlough intended to hurt us. He did, after all, make the choice that destroyed the Black Guardian."

"But if he'd told us before—"

"Tegan, I don't have time to discuss this right now. I have a great deal to do to ensure that the TARDIS continues to operate."

"So that means it's going to be a while before you can get him to his planet?"

"Yes."

"I told you when we met him that we shouldn't trust him."

The Doctor's head vanished again. "Please, Tegan, not now."

"Fine. But I hope you can get it fixed soon. The sooner we drop him off, the better."

Tegan had tried to help the Doctor, but she was unfamiliar with most of the tools he requested, and she could not comply with his request to complete even simple wiring tasks. When he asked for a wrench only to have it clatter to the ground in Tegan's uncooperative hands, he stood to flex his fingers with a sigh.

Tegan retrieved the wrench and set it on the console with a muttered apology.

"If you'd really like to help, you can find Turlough."

"What for?"

"He's rather knowledgeable about electronics and more familiar with these tools than you are."

"You're going to trust him with the TARDIS?"

"With helping to repair her, yes I am."

Tegan shook her head. "I don't think that's a very good idea—"

"He simply wants to go home. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize that. Now the sooner you get him, the sooner I can deliver him to his planet."

Tegan searched for Turlough for some time. Finally she found him in the library, lounging in one of the large leather wing chairs. His eyes were closed, but she noticed that his hands were clenched on his lap.

"Turlough," she said, taking a few steps toward him.

He opened his eyes immediately. "What?"

"The Doctor needs you in the console room."

"Is he ready to set the coordinates?"

"No. He's still repairing the machinery. He thinks you can help."

Turlough stood, his right hand snaking up toward his neck as he moved toward the door. He brushed past Tegan without a word.

"Wait a minute," she said, reaching for his arm.

He stopped and rotated his head to look at her. "Let go of me."

She dropped her hand. "I'm going to be watching you," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

He stared at her for a moment, a frown deepening into his forehead. "Suit yourself."

He turned and walked out the door. Tegan hurried after him.

The Doctor welcomed Turlough with a cursory nod and pointed toward a bundle of wires. "Can you separate those?" he asked.

Turlough moved to the console and touched the tangled mess. "Yes, I think so."

"Good." The Doctor disappeared again beneath the console.

Turlough bent over the wires as Tegan stood uncertainly nearby, feeling that she should be helping in some way but unsure what exactly she could do. Well, she could keep an eye on Turlough at the very least and be certain that he did not try to interfere with the Doctor's efforts.

She watched him for several minutes as his fingers moved skillfully along the wires. He deftly separated the strands, working quietly and quickly. But she continued to observe him warily. After another minute his right hand left the wires and moved up to the base of his neck. He began rubbing the area again.

Tegan took a few steps toward him.

"Cripes, Turlough, you've nearly rubbed it raw!" she remonstrated when she saw the redness of his skin.

He jerked his head up to glower at her, pressing his hand over the chafing. "It's nothing."

"Doctor," she continued, undeterred by the young man's steely glare, "look what Turlough's done."

The Doctor emerged from beneath the console, immediately focusing upon the wires. "You've made a good start, but there's still quite a bit more to do," he began.

"I'm not talking about those!" Tegan said. She pointed at the back of Turlough's head. "Look at that."

Turlough's acrimonious stare might have withered another person, but Tegan merely glared back.

"It's none of your concern," he hissed at her.

The Doctor's expression grew dark for an instant, and he lifted his hand to point at each of his companions. "Look, you two, this sniping is not helping. If you can't cooperate in here and provide real assistance, then just leave."

"I'm not sniping," Tegan huffed. "I just want you to see what he's done to himself."

The Doctor's eyes moved to the hand Turlough still had pressed over his neck.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"It's nothing," Turlough replied shortly.

"Show him," Tegan said, reaching for Turlough's wrist.

The Trion stepped back. "Just leave me alone!" His hand moved roughly over his neck, back and forth as if of its own volition.

The Doctor gave Tegan a reprimanding look then said, "What is she talking about, Turlough?"

"It's nothing—" His hand did not cease its movement.

The Time Lord took Turlough's wrist and lowered the hand. His eyes moved rapidly over the raw skin. He now noticed that the young man's head was slightly lowered, and his neck bent forward at an odd angle.

"How long has it ached?" he asked, meeting Turlough's eyes.

He shrugged. "I don't know—"

"He's been rubbing it since we got back," Tegan interjected.

"I see," the Time Lord said. "I think some time under a hot shower would help."

"No," Turlough replied, "it's all right. I'll be fine once I get home—"

The Doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to take you there for some time. There is much more damage here than I thought initially. The TARDIS can't sustain a long journey in the condition she's in now."

"How long will the repairs take?" Tegan asked. "A couple of hours?"

"No," said the Doctor. "This will require several weeks, unless I can get new parts to replace the damaged ones—"

"Several weeks?" Tegan repeated. "Doctor! He can't stay here for several weeks—"

"Believe me," Turlough interjected, "that's the last thing I want."

"It's the last thing any of us want," Tegan said hotly.

"Stop it!" The Doctor's voice was uncharacteristically loud. "I told you before that I can't work with you two acting like this. Turlough, go get in the shower."

"But the wiring—"

"Can wait a little longer. I'm nowhere near the point at which I'll need it."

Turlough left without further comment. After a moment the Doctor turned toward Tegan. "You're not helping him, you know."

"What?"

"This constant mistrust—and your attitude toward him. It's only increasing his stress."

"Look, Doctor, he's the one who kept the Black Guardian a secret from us—"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, but I'm sure he had his reasons."

"You're defending him? After he almost got you killed on Captain Wrack's ship?"

"You weren't there, Tegan. Don't assume you know what happened."

"So you're saying that you trust him now? That I should just forgive and forget too?" She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"No, that is not what I'm suggesting. But I would appreciate it if you could have some compassion for him."

"Compassion? Why?"

"He is under so much stress that he has literally rubbed his neck raw, as you put it. This whole experience—keeping his secret and now your constant criticism and suspicions—has been extremely difficult for him. I don't think that you've stopped to consider that he might feel a rather deep regret for what he did."

"And that's why he's so tense?" She recalled how tight his muscles had felt beneath her fingertips when she'd seen him in the kitchen.

"Yes."

The memory of the two bodies falling from Captain Wrack's ship, and the wrenching pain she had felt when she believed that the Doctor was dead, flooded through her, edging out her gentler nature for a moment. "He brought it on himself."

The Doctor took a breath; she could see that he was struggling to remain patient. "Tegan, please, just try—"

His eyes left her face and wandered to the view screen, then he bent over one of the monitors on the console. He tapped at the keys. After a few seconds he looked up at her.

"I think that the best thing for you and Turlough is to remain apart for a time—at least until I've repaired the TARDIS."

"So what should we do? Hang a tie on the door when one of us is in here with you?"

"Hang a tie?" The Doctor blinked in confusion. "No. I was actually thinking of taking you someplace where you can both relax and will not need to see each other for a few days."

"But I thought the TARDIS couldn't go anywhere."

"I never said that, Tegan. I wish you'd listen to me once in awhile."

She rolled her eyes, but before she had a chance to speak, he continued, "We can travel relatively short distances. There is a planet in this sector called Sanadia-3—or is it 4?—that I think you'll rather enjoy."

He was already punching at the keys.

"Does it have any giant mind-invading snakes or telepathic creeps on it?" Tegan asked wryly.

"Not a one—just a large resort complex complete with several first-rate spas. Just the thing to relieve some of the tension around here. And, if I am not mistaken, there is even a decent repair facility where I may be able to find a few resistors."

"I suppose I could spend a day or two at a resort," Tegan relented.

"Good. Now go and get Turlough and tell him we'll be arriving soon."

"But he's—" She lifted her hands in protest. "Look, Doctor, you can ask me to have a little compassion for Turlough, but don't ask me to get him out of the shower."


	2. Chapter 2

The TARDIS arrived on Sanadia-3 with a sharp shudder and a rather violent wheeze. A few puffs of smoke drifted up from the console as the Doctor pulled the lever to open the door. Tegan glanced at the smoke dubiously but decided against commenting on it. She was relatively sure that the Doctor knew what he was doing.

Turlough stood motionless by the door. His disappointment was evident; his face had fallen when the Doctor told him that several weeks could be required to repair the TARDIS fully. Immediately upon hearing the news his hand had returned to rub at his neck once again. He appeared utterly defeated.

Tegan brushed past him to step out into the warm, fresh air. Sunshine bathed her face, and she was instantly aware of a subtle fragrance that perfumed the air. Her eyes swept the lush, flowering bushes that surrounded the TARDIS. Tall trees resembling willows spread like feathery umbrellas overhead. She saw that they had materialized just off of a paved pathway. Perhaps one hundred meters ahead, down a gentle hill, a small cluster of buildings spread out before her. Their pale mauve walls were connected with narrow porticoes; vines twined up the columns, purple blossoms open in the sunshine. Several swimming pools sparkled with impossibly blue water in the afternoon light.

"Come along, " she heard the Doctor say.

She glanced back to see that he ushered Turlough outside. The young man's expression showed his disinterest in the situation. His mouth was tight, and a faint scowl creased his forehead. His hand, she thought, would be plastered permanently to the nape of his neck.

"Cripes, Turlough," she began, "you could at least try to enjoy this."

"Enjoy what?" he responded dully.

"This." She swept her hand toward the buildings. "It's beautiful."

He shrugged and continued to stare straight ahead.

"This way," the Doctor said brightly. "Let's have a look around." He led the way down the hill toward the nearest buildings, Tegan at his side. Turlough shuffled along behind them.

Beyond the resort complex lay a dozen or so additional buildings. All were painted in gentle pastel shades and had lush landscaping. Paved footpaths wound between them; a few pedestrians walked along leisurely.

Tegan saw now that the buildings lay in a vale, surrounded by gentle hills.

"It's very secluded," she commented as they strolled along the pathway.

The Doctor nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the only settlement on the planet."

"Really?" Tegan asked in some surprise. "It's so nice here. Why hasn't the entire thing been settled?"

"This is a resort planet," he explained. "This system—the Pumerean System—has dozens of these smaller planets in it. The major population centers are on the larger planets, which have a greater supply of resources. The smaller planets have become vacation destinations, much like the smaller islands in the Caribbean or off the coast of Spain."

Tegan nodded. "It looks a bit like the South of France—the architecture is sort of Mediterranean."

"I suppose so, but you won't find an ocean nearby."

"I think I can manage without one," she said with a smile, but after a moment she stopped walking. "Doctor, do you have some sort of intergalactic credit card?"

"Credit card?"

"Yes. You know, to pay for our stay here."

He frowned. "Oh. I thought you'd brought yours."

"I—" she fumbled.

A smile spread across the Time Lord's face, dissipating the tension that had tinged his expression since they had landed on Striker's ship. "No credit cards are necessary here."

In response to Tegan's questioning look, he added, "I'd forgotten that you aren't familiar with the government in this system. The resorts and services are free of charge to the patrons."

"How can that be?" Tegan asked in surprise.

"The governments of the major planets provide these resorts as a social service to their citizens, much as most of the industrialized countries on Earth provide their citizens with free medical services."

"So this is sort of like socialized holidays? The people's taxes pay for it?"

"Something like that, yes."

"But we aren't citizens of any of the planets in this system."

"No. However, we have arrived before intergalactic travel is possible here, so it is assumed that all of the visitors are in fact citizens of the Pumerean Federation. I don't believe that anyone will question our origins or nationalities."

Tegan reached for the Doctor's arm to stop him. "But that's not really right, is it? To use the services when we haven't paid for them in any way?"

An enigmatic half-smile tugged at the Doctor's mouth as his eyes wandered toward the blue sky. "I may have helped one of the other planets once or twice and been offered use of their services."

"But still," she began to protest, but the sunshine was caressing her cheeks so warmly, and the blossoms were so fragrant that she continued walking without further comment.

When they reached the entrance to the complex, they were greeted by a blonde young woman in a simple yet attractive rose-colored uniform.

"Good afternoon," she said with a warm smile. She offered a well-manicured hand to the guests. "Welcome to Sanadia 3, a Sanadia Corporation property. I'm Joyara. You're just arriving?"

"Yes," the Doctor nodded, shaking her hand. He paused for a moment to admire a wide gold bracelet that encircled her wrist. On it was an embossed letter S decorated with small, glittering crystalline stones.

She glanced at the pathway behind him. "I hope you enjoyed seeing the area. You must be tired, though. The walk from the spaceport is rather long."

"But quite lovely," the Doctor said. "It was very enjoyable."

"Thank you. Sanadia properties are designed to be the most beautiful of all the resorts, and we appreciate that you chose us. You'll find registration just down this walkway," she gestured gracefully with her hand. "They can provide someone to bring your luggage. However, if there are any special services that I might arrange for you, I'd be glad to do so. Perhaps you'd like some refreshments waiting for you in your rooms?" She smiled at Tegan, glancing quickly at her hand. "Or a manicure?"

Tegan smiled in return. "A manicure? Oh, that would be a treat—"

"I'll have a manicurist sent to your room within the hour. And you, sir?" She focused her gaze gently on Turlough. "Is there anything that I might arrange for you?"

Turlough rubbed at his neck and shook his head. "No, thank you."

The Doctor clapped a hand to Turlough's shoulder. "Would you have a masseur available?"

"Of course," Joyara replied. "And is there anything else that you need?"

The Doctor said, "Perhaps you can steer me in the direction of the mechanical services facilities. My craft is in need of some repair."

Joyara pointed toward the outer edge of the complex, in the direction opposite from the one in which they had come. "The repair facilities are that way. I can send a concierge to your room to escort you if you like."

"Ah, thank you, but that won't be necessary." The Doctor gave her an appreciative nod then touched Tegan's back and Turlough's arm. "Shall we?"

"Have a wonderful and relaxing stay," Joyara called lightly as they walked away. "And don't forget to tell your friends about the Sanadia properties."

"I thought you said that the government ran these facilities," Tegan commented to the Doctor. "But she kept talking about Sanadia properties."

"Actually, Tegan," began the Doctor, "I never said the government ran them; they provide them as a service to the citizens. I believe that several private companies have been contracted to build and run the resorts—Sanadia is one of them."

Tegan nodded. "Oh."

After they had walked a few meters, Turlough sighed. "I don't need a masseur," he said.

The Doctor glanced at the young man. He still held his head stiffly.

"Trust me, Turlough, it will be the best thing in the world for you," said the Time Lord.

"I don't know…" replied Turlough, but his tone was softer, and the furrows in his forehead had disappeared.

The Doctor smiled. "You see, you're more relaxed already!"

* * *

Tegan lifted the crystal glass to her lips and took a sip. She sighed blissfully and leaned back against the downy cushions that lined the lounge chair. Flowers resembling wisteria draped the latticed roof overhead, casting lavender reflections in the clear water of the swimming pool. Sunlight filtered through the vines, warming her gently. She closed her eyes. 

"Enjoying yourself, are you?"

Opening her eyes, Tegan found the Doctor standing next to her.

"As a matter of fact, I am," she replied.

He nodded as she took another sip of her drink.

"What is it?" he asked, touching the rim of the glass.

"I'm not sure, but it tastes a lot like a kir royale."

"Champagne at this hour? It's a bit early in the day—"

Tegan shrugged, unruffled by his comment.

"—but then you are on holiday," he continued. "I suppose you should enjoy yourself. How was your manicure?"

Tegan held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. Her opalescent nails shone in the light.

"Very pretty," he said.

"Thanks." She was a bit surprised that he had even noticed her nail polish, let alone commented on it. "What have you been up to?"

"I've had a nice chat with the fellows at the machine shop. They're going to give me some basic resistors that I should be able to modify for the TARDIS."

Tegan raised an eyebrow at him. "How long will that take?"

"A few days, at the least."

She smiled. "Good, because I don't think I'll be ready to leave here for a long time!" She patted the chaise next to hers. "Sit down, Doctor. You could use a little time to relax, too."

"Now that I have the parts I need, working on the TARDIS will be very relaxing."

"You're not going to stay here with us?"

He shook his head. "No."

"But you took a room—I thought you'd be able to spend some time here."

"Yes, well I may pop in from time to time. I'd like to see how Turlough's doing."

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

The Time Lord nodded and took a step back. "I'll see you later."

"All right. Good luck with the TARDIS—but take your time!"

"Enjoy yourself, Tegan," he called as he walked away.

"Oh, believe me, I plan to!" She lifted the glass and took a long drink, sinking back against the cushions again and closing her eyes.

"May I bring you another?"

Tegan opened her eyes. A man stood at the foot of the chaise, his hands clasped behind his back. He was tall and lean, but she could see the definition in his arms below the short-sleeved shirt he wore. His grey eyes crinkled slightly at the edges with his cheerful expression.

"Oh," she replied, "thanks." She offered him her glass.

He took it with a smile. She noticed the bracelet on his wrist immediately. The small crystals glittered against the wide gold band.

"You work here?" she asked.

"Yes. I'll be right back." He walked quickly to the bar on the other side of the pool and returned a minute later with a full flute, which he handed to her.

"Thanks."

"Are you enjoying your stay here?"

She nodded. "Very much."

"Have you visited a Sanadia property before?"

She shook her head. "No, this is my first time."

"Might I ask your name?"

"I'm Tegan."

He bowed slightly. "Miss Tegan. I'm Kol, assistant manager of Sanadia-3. If there is anything that you need, please feel free to ask for me."

"Thanks. I'm starting to feel a bit spoiled already."

He smiled. "That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

"Maybe here, but believe me, I'm not used to this."

His smiled faded. "No? Well, you should be. May I tell you about some of the pampering services I recommend?"

Tegan took another sip of her drink and patted the neighboring chaise. "I won't say no to that."

* * *

Turlough did not want to enjoy the man's hands sliding over his naked back, rubbing his shoulder blades and up along the edge of his spine. He had decided immediately that he would not like the warm, fragrant oil caressed gently yet firmly into his skin. He would not find any pleasure in this massage. Indeed, he had agreed to it only because the Doctor insisted and refused to leave him alone until he acquiesced. But acquiescence did not have to mean acceptance, and it certainly did not mean that he would enjoy it— 

A small moan of satisfaction escaped Turlough's lips. The masseur's hand slid up, moving in small circles over the knot in his neck. The oil tingled slightly against the raw skin, but it was not painful or even uncomfortable. In fact it soothed the irritation, and the man's fingers worked the muscles masterfully, easing the tension and assuaging the ache. Turlough closed his eyes in pleasure, relaxing and drifting into a light sleep.

When he awoke, he was alone in the room. He still lay on his stomach on the massage table with the towel draped just below his waist. His head was turned to the side, and he hesitated to lift it, anticipating the pain that this would cause his neck. He moved his head slowly, and was surprised that he felt no discomfort. He pushed himself up on his elbows and rotated his head. There was only the smallest stiffness remaining.

With a smile, Turlough sat up and stretched his arms. He looked around the spacious room, noticing for the first time that it was decorated in soft, pastel colors. Several vases of fresh flowers adorned the dresser and small writing table. Outside the window he caught a glimpse of more flowers blooming on the manicured hedges.

His stomach rumbled, and Turlough realized that he was hungry—truly hungry. He hadn't felt this famished in some time… months, it seemed, perhaps years. He hopped off of the table and hurried toward the shower, already anticipating real enjoyment in the taste of food.

* * *

Tegan had finished her third drink, and her conversation with Kol had turned from the resort to her family and friends some time ago. He listened intently as she told him about Nyssa, and when she described the young woman's compassion and need to have a purpose in her life—the need which had led to her decision to leave her friends—Kol placed a sympathetic hand over hers. 

"That must have been difficult for you," he said gently.

Tegan nodded. "It was. She was really like a sister to me. I still miss her."

"But she's doing something important—she's helping others in a way that only she can."

"I know, but it's still hard sometimes."

"I can tell that you were a good friend to her, too."

Tegan blinked and took a breath. Her head felt a bit foggy from the drinks. "You can?"

"Yes, of course. You're a very warm and caring person."

Tegan gave a short laugh. "Care to tell that to Turlough?"

"The young man travelling with you? I'd be glad to—"

"No," she smiled, "I was just kidding."

The pool area had been relatively quiet while they talked. A few other guests had settled on lounge chairs, and one older man had taken a leisurely swim. Now a woman in the rose-colored uniform that Tegan had come to recognize as the Sanadia employees' garb, approached them.

"Pardon me, Kol," she said.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Druus needs to speak with you."

Kol nodded. "I'll be right there."

As the woman hurried away, he turned back to Tegan. "Excuse me, but I'm afraid that duty calls."

"Oh, sorry. I've taken up a lot of your time—"

"And I enjoyed every minute of it. But I do need to return to work now." He noticed her empty glass and touched it, already gesturing to the bartender. "Would you like another?"

She shook her head. "No—I've had two more than I should have already. I should probably get some food in my stomach, too."

"Of course. We have four restaurants and several smaller cafes for light meals and snacks."

Tegan stood. "Thanks."

He extended his hand to her. "It really has been a pleasure talking with you."

She took his hand. "I've enjoyed it, too."

With a small squeeze of her hand he turned and walked away. In a moment the bartender appeared to retrieve her glass.

"Is everything all right, miss?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "Yes. Why?"

"You looked a bit—forgive me—but a bit perplexed."

"Did I? I was just thinking about how nice it is that you treat guests so well here. I mean good service is one thing, but to spend nearly an hour with someone—"

"You mean Mr. Kol's time with you?"

She nodded.

"He must have enjoyed your company."

"But it's all just part of the service, right?"

The bartender gave her a brief shake of his head and a knowing smile.

He walked away. Tegan felt warm and slightly dizzy. She glanced at the empty glass in his hand and muttered, "Two more than I should have—that's for sure."

* * *

When Tegan entered the restaurant she saw Turlough immediately. He sat alone at a small table with two nearly-empty plates in front of him. 

"Great," she muttered, "four restaurants and I pick the one he's at." She began to turn back to the door, but she stopped. She knew that she had been frustrated with Turlough, but she did not feel any particular animosity toward him now. Indeed, she felt relaxed and happy. With a shrug she walked toward him.

"How's the food?" she asked.

He looked up at her. "Delicious, really."

"What did you have?"

"Some sort of fowl and potatoes," he pointed at one plate, "and a salad with apples and nuts and cheese."

"Sounds good."

He nodded and continued eating.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked, resting her hand casually on the back of the chair.

"Suit yourself."

Tegan began to pull out the chair, but a waiter quickly stepped to her side and took over the small task, settling her with a napkin in her lap. She declined his offer of a cocktail and ordered mineral water instead. Turlough put the last piece of fowl into his mouth then sat back with a small smile.

"Maybe I'll have that, too," she said.

"Good choice."

She noticed that his hands remained on the table and waited for him to begin rubbing at his neck. She watched him for nearly a minute, yet his hands stayed still.

"How was the massage?" she finally asked.

"Good."

"Is your neck feeling better?"

He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Much. Thanks."

She smiled. "I'm glad."

The waiter returned with Tegan's water and a basket of warm bread.

"Would you care for some port or brandy, or dessert sir?" he asked Turlough.

The Trion hesitated.

"Oh, go for it," Tegan urged.

"All right," he agreed. "Port, and whatever you think is best for dessert."

"Very good, sir."

Tegan surveyed the empty plates and the satisfied expression on Turlough's face. "I don't think I've ever seen you eat this much," she said.

"No? Well, I was feeling particularly hungry—hungrier than I've felt in a long time. It's funny, usually I just eat because I have to, but this really did taste good. I haven't enjoyed a meal this much in a long time."

"Since when?"

"I don't know, really—maybe since I left home. The food at school was awful, and I suppose I just lost interest in it."

Tegan took a slice of bread and broke off a small piece. A rich, yeasty aroma swirled up. "I think this is a good place to rediscover a lot of the finer things in life," she said.

The waiter set a small glass of port before Turlough, who lifted it and took a sip. "I think you're right, Tegan. Cheers."

* * *

Tegan took her breakfast on a small terrace overlooking one of the pools. Bistro tables with pretty, mauve umbrellas provided a pleasant setting for a meal. She sipped fragrant tea that reminded her of Earl Grey and enjoyed warm brioche and fresh berries in cream. She watched two blue and gold butterflies flit among the flowers adorning the surrounding bushes. A gardener worked unobtrusively nearby, snipping the few withered leaves from the plants. 

"Excuse me," a familiar voice said.

Tegan looked up to find Kol standing before her.

"Good morning," she said.

He smiled. "Did you have a good night's rest?"

She nodded. "The bed was so comfortable that I hated to get up, but I was hungry."

His smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that your room is satisfactory."

"Oh, it's more than satisfactory! Everything—this entire place—is wonderful. Remind me to give my compliments to the assistant manager."

"Perhaps you could do that over lunch. You're here during our low season, so I think he has a little time free then."

"All right."

Kol took her hand for a moment and squeezed it lightly. "I'll meet you here at noon."

Tegan watched him walk away. He carried himself well, with confidence but without arrogance. She imagined that he was quite good at his job. He was certainly skilled in guest relations. She recalled the very enjoyable conversation she had shared with him by the pool. What had the bartender told her as she was leaving? Something about Kol enjoying her company? She was quite sure that his attention was merely a part of the resort's services, but at least he had no intentions of spying on her thoughts.

She finished her breakfast then strolled along several of the paths for an hour. At one point she neared the hill on which the TARDIS had landed. She glanced up; she could just glimpse a hint of steel blue among the bushes. She began to climb the hill, but the flowers were so bright and the air was so fresh… and the interior of the TARDIS would be artificially lit and stark white. She turned and walked back along the path toward the resort.

* * *

After breakfast in his room, Turlough found a small library where he borrowed several books. He returned to his room to sit upon the small patio outside. He opened a book and began to read. At first he found the novel rather trite. He had read only Joyce, Conrad, and James during his last few months at school, and the straight-forward style of the detective novel seemed too simplistic to him at first, but after a short while he began to enjoy it. 

He had read for over an hour when he lifted his head to look at a small yellow bird that hopped along the patio railing. His neck felt a bit stiff—not exactly sore, but rather pinched. He stood and walked to the intercom on the wall, pressing the button.

"Yes sir?"

Turlough cleared his throat. "Could I get a masseur to come to my room?"

"Of course, sir. I'll send someone within the hour."

"Thanks." He released the button then quickly depressed it again.

"Yes sir?"

"Could you send the same one I had yesterday?"

"Yes, of course. Is there anything else that you need?"

"No—thank you."

Turlough rotated his head. Perhaps his neck wasn't really stiff; maybe he had just sat too long reading. He lifted his hand to press the intercom button again. However, the memory of those ever-so-skilled fingers and hands stroking and soothing his back and neck stopped him. He dropped his hand and took a breath. It was simply too good to resist.

* * *

Tegan waited several minutes until Kol appeared near the terrace. He waved to her then took her elbow as he arrived at her side. 

"I only have half an hour," he said, "but I've asked one of the chefs to prepare a small picnic for us, if that meets your satisfaction."

"All right," Tegan agreed immediately. The air was perfectly warm and the sky so beautifully blue; it seemed a shame to her to spend any time inside at all.

Kol led her along one of the paths just beyond the building in which her room was. A small arbor heavy with grapes shaded a tiny table and two chairs. She saw that several plates, covered dishes, and a bottle of wine were set out upon the table. Kol pulled out her chair for her then placed the linen napkin in her lap.

"Thanks," she said. "I think I'm getting spoiled."

He smiled. "You deserve it."

"I don't know how you find the time to treat all of your guests this way," she commented as he poured clear, straw-colored wine into a slender goblet.

He handed the glass to her. "Of course all of our guests are special here, but I have to confess, Tegan, that I've enjoyed talking with you more than I have with anyone in a long time."

"So this," she gestured with both hands over the table, "isn't just part of the standard service?"

He shook his head. "No, not usually."

Tegan felt her cheeks grow warm as she took a sip of the wine. She saw that he watched her intently. She swallowed. "Mmm, that's nice." She set her glass carefully on the table.

"How long will you be with us?" he asked, offering her a slice of bread from a pretty green basket.

"I'm not sure—probably a few more days. The Doctor still has to repair our ship."

"The Doctor? Oh, yes, the fellow you were traveling with. There's a young man, too, who you mentioned yesterday—Turbo, was it?"

"Turlough," Tegan replied before taking a bite of the bread.

"And these men are your traveling companions, but you aren't related to them?"

"No."

Kol lifted the cover from one of the dishes and spooned some of the contents onto Tegan's plate. "I hope you like soufflé. And how long have you been traveling with these two?"

Tegan shrugged. "A while."

"And where did you say you were from?" he asked.

Tegan had lifted a forkful of soufflé to her mouth, but she paused. "I never asked where you're from, did I? Were you born here?"

Kol scowled faintly, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's slight glare. "No. The resort has been here for only ten years. Prior to that, this was an uninhabited planet."

"That surprises me; it's so nice here—it's just about perfect."

"We've worked hard to make the resort attractive."

"So you came here for work?"

He nodded.

"Do you ever go home? I mean to the planet you came from?"

He shook his head. "No. There's everything I need here."

As Kol put a spoonful of rice on Tegan's plate, the sunlight caught the crystals on his bracelet.

"That's really beautiful," she commented, reaching out to touch the gold band.

Kol pulled his hand back to study the insignia. "Thank you."

"I noticed that most of the employees here wear them."

"Yes. It's to identify us immediately to our guests—so that they may be assisted promptly wherever they are. Didn't the hostess who greeted you tell you that?"

"I'm not sure—"

"I'll have to speak with her about that. She's new."

Tegan glanced at the bracelet again. "Yours has more crystals than some."

"You're very observant! The number of crystals represents the length of time one has worked here, but this outer circle," he touched the stones lightly, "is given only to those in management positions."

"Did you work your way up, or did you start out in this job?"

"I worked my way up. I started out as a mechanic."

"That's great. I know it takes a lot of sweat to do that." She finally put the soufflé in her mouth.

Kol watched her as her eyes widened slightly in pleasure. "You like it?"

"Mmm," she mumbled as she took another bite, "yes!"

"I'm glad to hear it. We do try to provide the very best for our guests."

"I don't know how you can do it," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, your company was contracted by the government to set up and run this place, right? But where I come from governments try to save money—they give contracts to the providers who can do the job the cheapest. It seems like no expense has been spared here."

"Ah, you must be from Irreta. I've heard that their government isn't run very efficiently."

Tegan gave a vague nod of acknowledgement.

"We operate using a simple principle: Provide the best facilities and services, and guests will return. The government, as I'm sure you know, pays each resort corporation according to attendance and satisfaction ratings at their properties. This is our most popular one—it has been since it opened. We have more return guests than any other resort in the galaxy. I suppose it cost a bit more to build it initially, but the pay-off is obvious."

"So the Sanadia Corporation is pretty successful?"

Kol smiled. "Extremely. But I think that's enough business talk. I'd really like to hear more about you."

Tegan noticed that she had finished all of wine in her glass. "And why is that?"

"Because you—I just really enjoy talking with you."

"Not just because you have to, because I'm a guest?"

"Absolutely not."

Tegan's smile broadened as he refilled her glass.

* * *

Turlough lay on the massage table with his eyes closed. He could not imagine why he had ever resisted this amazing service. The masseur's hands were truly supernatural. The Trion lad had never felt so relaxed. 

The man worked quietly; aside from thanking Turlough for requesting him again, he had said little during the session. However, as his hands slowed he glanced at Turlough's face, and, noticing that his eyes were still half open, commented, "It's fine if you want to sleep, sir."

Turlough blinked. "Oh, no—I was just really exhausted yesterday."

"Of course." He straightened and wiped his hands on a towel. "I hope that this was as satisfactory as yesterday's."

Turlough watched the masseur for a moment, admiring the long fingers and strong arms leading to a muscular torso…

"Yes, thanks." Turlough suddenly felt self-conscious in his towel. He turned his head away. "That will be all."

He heard the masseur packing the several bottles of oil into a small basket then walking across the carpet toward the door. "I can come back at the same time tomorrow," he said as he slipped outside.

Turlough lay still for a minute. His neck and back felt absolutely wonderful, and he felt calm. Constant anxiety had plagued him for years, ever since he left Trion. While he was at school he had never felt entirely comfortable, and he knew that most of the other students disliked him. There had been occasional incidents… and he had learned to be on edge. His apprehension had grown exponentially since meeting the Doctor. At first the plan had seemed so simple. He would kill the Time Lord, and the Black Guardian would return him to Trion.

But then he had gotten to know the Doctor. He had seen the man willingly offer up his lives to save his companions. The thought of killing him felt less comfortable then. And the Black Guardian's demands had grown more insistent, his threats more real. Turlough touched the bruises on his neck; they were still sore when the pressed his finger against them.

Yet now all of the anxiety had dissipated. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the Black Guardian had been destroyed, at least for the near future. Turlough felt utterly at peace.

* * *

When he went out to sit by the pool sometime later, Turlough saw that Tegan rested in one of the chaises. 

"Hello," he said.

She squinted up at him, shielding her eyes from the late-afternoon sun with her hand. "Oh, hi."

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," he commented.

"You too."

Turlough looked toward the hills for a moment. "I wonder how the Doctor's doing? Have you seen him today?"

Tegan shook her head. "We probably won't see him for some time. He planned to work on the TARDIS as long as it took."

"It's a shame that he has to miss out on all of this."

She nodded in agreement. "He said he might check in on us, but I've seen him working on the TARDIS before. He gets totally preoccupied."

Turlough sat down in the chair next to her. "It'll be time for dinner soon. Do you want to go back to the restaurant where we ate last night?"

"Oh." She looked away. "Actually, I have plans."

"Plans? With whom?"

"With the assistant manager—"

"You've got a boyfriend already?" Turlough chided amiably.

"Of course not! It's not like that at all."

"No? Then what is it like?"

"He's just a nice man, a man who enjoys talking with me. And he doesn't want anything from me—no memories or knowledge or possession—" She stopped. For the first time in nearly two days her voice had risen slightly. When she looked down, she found that her hand shook almost imperceptibly.

"It's all right, Tegan," Turlough said calmly. "You can see anyone you want. I certainly don't care."

"I'm not seeing him. We're just friends."

Turlough stood. "Well, enjoy dinner with your friend, then."

He walked back toward his room then decided to veer off onto the path that led toward the hills. He strolled for some time, enjoying the scenery and pleasant weather. Finally the shade of a large tree beckoned to him and he sat on the cool grass, leaning against the trunk. Two birds chirruped in the leaves above him, hopping about on the twigs in what he supposed was some sort of mating ritual.

Turlough closed his eyes. The setting was so serene… except for the incessant chirping. He opened his eyes. The small birds continued to flutter about noisily. Their cheeping was endless. He stared up at them, frowning.

"Hey!" he cried, "give it a rest! Stop it!"

The birds, startled by the sharp voice, flew away. Turlough settled back against the trunk and permitted his eyes to close again. After a few minutes, however, he heard a faint whistling. He thought for a moment that the birds had returned. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he opened his eyes and looked up. He saw no sign of the birds. Turlough stood to look about.

A familiar figure strolled along the path, hands in his front pockets and straw hat perched atop his head. The Doctor was whistling a sprightly tune as he ambled down the pathway.

"Doctor!" called Turlough, waving.

The Time Lord paused and looked in his direction. He smiled and walked quickly toward Turlough.

"Are you enjoying your stay?" he asked as he neared the Trion youth.

Turlough nodded. "Yes. It's pretty nice here."

"It seems just about perfect. And it looks as though your neck is feeling better." The Doctor's eyes quickly assessed the tilt of Turlough's head and shoulders.

"Yes, it is."

"So I was right about the massage, hmm?"

Turlough did not acknowledge this. Instead, he said, "How are the repairs coming along?"

"Quite well, although rather slowly. I was just heading to the machine shop to see if I could find another part."

"Can you spare an hour for dinner? The food here is really quite good."

"And better, I suppose, when enjoyed with some company."

"You're probably right. I ate with Tegan last night."

"You did?" The Doctor appeared momentarily surprised. "I'm glad you two are getting along better. I believe that I'll rather enjoy dining with you two under those circumstances."

"She won't be joining us."

"No? Why not?"

"Tegan has a dinner date."

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "She does? With whom?"

Turlough shrugged. "Some fellow who works here—a manager or something."

The Doctor seemed to contemplate this information for several seconds. Finally Turlough added lightly, "She says they're just friends, that she just likes talking with him."

"I see. Well, that shouldn't stop you and me from enjoying a pleasant meal. However, I would like to see if I can get this part before the shop closes for the evening. Shall I meet you later?"

"All right—say an hour, at my room?"

"Fine." The Doctor turned to continue along the path toward the resort, resuming his whistled tune as he sauntered away.

* * *

Tegan was certain that she would have to put herself on a strict diet as soon as she left Sanadia-3. She seemed to indulge more with each meal. Dinner had been a sumptuous affair with a caviar-like appetizer, a rich bisque laced with sherry, succulently tender lamb and whipped potatoes (had she detected a hint of truffle in them?), more of that decadently delicious bread, and some sort of chocolate torte for dessert. All this was accompanied by perfectly paired wines, and once again Tegan felt quite distinctly that she had consumed at least one glass too many. 

When Kol pulled out her chair and offered her his arm as she stood, she felt slightly woozy but quite content.

"Let me walk you to your room," he said, linking his arm through hers.

"Thanks," she replied with one glance back at the table. Cripes, she had eaten a lot of food. For an instant she felt a mild sense of panic. This indulgence would surely affect her weight…

She was quiet as Kol led her along the pathway at a leisurely pace. She felt very full—uncomfortably so, really. She placed a hand over her stomach, frowning at the small bulge that must be quite obvious. Tomorrow she would take a very long walk and eat only fruit.

"Is something the matter?" Kol asked as they approached her room. "You're awfully quiet."

She looked up at him. His gray eyes were fixed on her face.

"I'm just a bit full," she replied. "I don't usually eat like that."

He smiled. "Our chefs do seem to have that effect on people. But you can certainly afford it." He glanced down at her body for a moment as they stopped at her door.

"I'm not so sure about that," she said, reaching into her pocket for the key.

He took both of her hands in his. "Tegan, I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed this evening. Talking with you is wonderful." He met her eyes with his and leaned in slightly.

Tegan quickly turned to slide the key into the lock. "Thanks," she said. "I had a nice time, too."

"Wait." She felt his hand on her arm; his fingers tightened slightly.

She turned half-way so that she could look at him. "It's been a terrific evening, Kol, but I'm really tired. Thanks again." She took a step into the room, pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Tegan—"

"Good night, Kol." She stepped inside quickly and shut the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Tegan awoke late. She could hear the housekeeping cart rolling along in the hallway and knew that it was mid-morning. She sat up to be greeted by a subtle yet unpleasant throbbing in her head. She needed coffee and a hot shower.

She had coffee sent to her room and found it waiting when she emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later. She poured coffee into her cup then sat in one of the deep, soft chairs near the window to gaze outside. A few guests and employees walked by. She watched a gardener work at rather savagely chopping the top layer of leaves off of a hedge, then shifted her attention to a couple who stood a few meters away. The woman was gesturing with her hands, and the man was shaking his head. Of course Tegan could not hear their words through the thick glass, but she could clearly see that they were arguing.

She turned her head away. Watching a fight was the last thing she wanted to do. She recalled that she had promised herself a long walk today, so she finished her coffee and dressed. Her stomach felt tight with hunger, but she decided to wait until lunch to eat. She would never lose those chocolate and wine pounds if she continued to consume the rich breads and pastries provided for the morning meal.

When Tegan stepped out of her room into the portico, the brightness of the sun seemed to bore through her eyes and straight into her skull. The coffee had not helped her headache. She rubbed at her temples for a moment then continued down the walkway.

"Tegan."

She looked over her shoulder to see Turlough coming toward her.

"Are you just going to breakfast now?" he asked, then before she could reply, he added, "Your date must have gone on quite late. Just getting up, are you?"

His tone was a bit too sarcastic for her taste, especially when her head was throbbing. "It's none of your business," she said shortly.

"No, I suppose not." He looked past her in apparent boredom. "But the Doctor was rather surprised to hear about your boyfriend."

Tegan scowled. "I told you yesterday, he's not my boyfriend! He's just a friend."

Turlough shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"And when did you see the Doctor?"

"I had dinner with him last night."

"Oh. I didn't know he'd been back here."

"Well, you were busy. I'm sure he didn't want to disturb you." Turlough began to walk away.

Tegan did not say good-bye. After he had walked off, she permitted her feet to lead her along the nearest pathway, wandering along without really attending to where she was going. Her head still hurt, and she felt sluggish and thick. The day was not beginning particularly well for her.

* * *

When Turlough returned to his room, the masseur stood in the hallway. He had set his basket of oils on the ground and was tapping his fingers rather impatiently against the wall. The moment he saw Turlough he frowned.

"I thought we had an appointment," the man said. "We agreed yesterday that I'd return today at this time."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot."

"Forgot? I see. Well, let's go inside," he said rather impatiently.

Turlough felt self-conscious with the man waiting for him. He remembered feeling the same way yesterday as the masseur finished the session.

"Look," Turlough said, "my neck's feeling fine. I don't need a massage today, but thanks anyway." He stepped past the masseur and unlocked the door.

The man's large hand pushed the door fully open. "Since I'm here, I might as well do this."

Turlough turned back. "No, it's all right, really—"

The masseur stepped inside and closed the door. "We made an appointment yesterday. I'm here to give you a massage." He set the oils on the dresser and retrieved the folded table from the corner, deftly opening it up. "Come on," he said rather sharply, "take off your clothes and get up here. You're not my only client today, you know."

"Then why don't you get to the others? I really don't need it—"

The masseur patted the table firmly. "Just let me do this." His tone was anything but soothing, and Turlough felt a vague sense of threat.

"I—I'd rather not. I think you should leave."

The man closed his eyes for a moment as if to compose himself. "I'm sorry, sir," he said contritely. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that if you cancel the massage the manager will question me about it—it will seem as though I did something wrong. This job—being here at Sanadia-3—is very important to me. Without it I'd be—I wouldn't have these opportunities. If I were to lose this job, I'd have nothing left to do."

Turlough listened but remained motionless near the door.

"Please, sir, allow me to give you a massage. I know you enjoyed the others, and this one will be even better. Just give me one more chance. If you aren't satisfied I won't return. I'll even send someone else if you like. Please?"

Turlough's neck had, in fact, felt a bit tight since he awoke. His hand snaked up to rub at it.

"You see," the masseur said, "you do need this." He went into the bathroom and returned with a towel, which he handed to Turlough. "Whenever you're ready, sir."

Reluctantly Turlough took the towel and walked to the bathroom to undress. When he returned the masseur gestured toward the table, and Turlough settled upon his stomach. He still felt slightly ill at ease, but his neck was starting to ache more, so he supposed it was good that the man had returned and urged him to accept the massage.

The strong hands began moving over Turlough's lower back, pushing upward in circular motions as the oil and friction warmed his skin. Once again the Trion had to admit to himself that this felt good—wonderful, if the truth were told. Turlough began to relax.

Suddenly he felt a bit of cool air brush over his hip. He rose up slightly to glance back. The towel had slipped downward to his thigh. The masseur was fiddling with the gold band at his wrist as Turlough grasped the towel and pulled it up toward his waist.

"I'm sorry, sir," the masseur offered. "My bracelet caught on the towel."

Turlough had gripped the towel firmly and tucked the edges together. His face felt warm. "Just try to be careful," he said, his voice rough with embarrassment.

The masseur placed a hand on Turlough's shoulder and pushed him gently down. "It was an accident."

Turlough turned his head and began to push himself up again. "Look, why don't we just call it a day. I've really had enough—"

"Just let me finish." The hands pressed into his shoulders, kneading deeply.

"No, really, I'd rather stop—"

The fingers moved up to his neck, pressing into the muscles, touching the bruises. Turlough winced.

"Hey!" he cried, "that hurts! Stop it—"

"I'm going to finish." The man's voice was firm, and his hands seemed to squeeze Turlough's neck for a moment. Then the pressure lessened, and the fingers moved more gently over the sore spot.

"Just relax, sir. This is a deeper technique, and you'll be a little sore at first, but in a couple of hours you'll feel much better."

The memory of the Black Guardian's hand around his throat had rushed back at Turlough as soon as he felt the masseur's rougher touch. He was at this man's mercy; this man could easily overpower him, and with one twist of his hand he could—

Turlough stopped himself. His thoughts were ludicrous. The man was a trained masseur, and he had been quite clear in his intent to please Turlough so that his job would not be threatened. Really, Turlough had power over him.

"You see," the masseur was saying, "it is better if you relax and just let me do my work."

Turlough lay still until the masseur finished. He listened while the man packed up the supplies then finally sat up when he heard the door latch.

"Same time tomorrow?" the masseur asked.

"I don' t know. I've made some plans with my friend—"

The masseur frowned. "But you weren't dissatisfied?"

"No. It was fine."

"And you'll request me again if you want another massage?"

Turlough nodded blankly.

"Thank you, sir." He stepped out the door.

Turlough sat for nearly a minute without moving. His heart was pounding, and he felt frightened, though there was no rational reason to be. The masseur had done nothing to him, with the possible exception of giving him a more vigorous massage than the previous two. He tilted his head to the side and grimaced. He decided immediately that the rougher technique was not for him. He would definitely not request that masseur, or any others for that matter, again.

* * *

Tegan had wandered along the pathways for some time. She finally gave in to the gnawing in her stomach, however, and returned to the resort. She slipped into the nearest restaurant and ordered a salad. As she finished her second glass of cool, lemon-infused water, she realized that her headache had diminished. With a bit of food to sustain her, she felt much better.

As she was leaving the restaurant, she saw Kol walking across the grounds. Another man, some years older than he was, walked next to him. He waved a clipboard in front of Kol, who shook his head then grabbed the board and stalked away. The other man hurried back into the closest building.

Kol finally looked up. His face was dark for a moment, but when he spotted Tegan his features softened and he smiled.

"Tegan," he called, nearly running to her. "Just what I need to brighten my day."

"Bad day?" she asked.

"The manager." He rolled his eyes. "He doesn't understand how this place really works. He came from corporate with some high-brow education and degree, but he hasn't spent ten years here like I have." His voice grew louder. "He's only been here for six months, and I'm the one who taught him most of what he knows—I am. And now he has the balls to say I'm not doing my job—"

"Oh," Tegan interjected, "it's not because of me, is it?"

"You? Oh Tegan, of course not!"

"But he's upset because you're taking time away from your job to be with me, right?"

His gaze locked on her face for a moment, then he took her arm. "Come with me, Tegan."

"But you need to get back to work—"

His fingers tightened. "Let me decide that. Come on, I want to show you something."

He led her to one of the smaller buildings behind the resort complex. Like the larger property, it was attractively landscaped, though less lush. As Tegan skimmed the rows of doors and windows she had the sudden impression that this was some sort of dormitory or apartment building.

"What's in here?" she asked as he propelled her up a staircase, his grip on her arm even firmer.

"This is where I live. All of the employees live here or in the building over there. They get single rooms, but I'm management, so my place is larger."

"Look, Kol," she began, planting her feet firmly on the top stair. "I'm sure it's very nice, but I need to get back—"

"I just want you to see it, to see that I've worked my way up. That bastard doesn't even appreciate what I've done—"

"The manager?"

He pulled her up the last step then toward a door. "You'll really like it," he said eagerly, keeping his grip on her arm.

"Kol, you're hurting me." She tried to pull her arm away.

He released her with a hurt expression, then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Come inside."

She glanced back at the staircase. There was no one else about. When she looked back at Kol's face, she saw that he smiled warmly. He had dropped his arm from her shoulder and taken her hand gently. He urged her inside.

"Come, Tegan, just for a minute, then I'll take you back to your room or wherever you'd like to go."

His voice was soft now. Slowly she stepped inside.

The apartment was simply yet attractively furnished. Several plants adorned the windowsills, and a large bouquet of fragrant flowers graced the dining table. She noticed immediately that a bottle of wine and two glasses sat upon the small table before the sofa. He led her to the sofa and sat, pulling her down with him.

Reaching for the bottle of wine, which had already been opened, he poured some into one of the glasses then offered it to her.

"Oh, no thanks," she said quickly. "I had a bit too much last night."

He frowned. "But you like wine."

"A little more than I should sometimes, I suppose. I need a break for a day or two."

He pressed the glass into her hand. "Just have one sip. I chose this especially for you—"

"No, really, I don't want to." She set the goblet on the table.

His eyes narrowed for a moment as they moved from the glass to her face, then he smiled again. "You are beautiful." He placed his hand on her cheek.

"Thanks," she said tonelessly, leaning back away from his hand.

"What's the matter?" he asked, obviously hurt by her subtle rebuff.

"Kol, you're really nice, and I've had a great time talking with you, but all this—"

"All what? All this that I did for you? Don't you like it?"

"It's… great, but I think you've misunderstood—"

Quickly he reached up to press his hands over her cheeks. He leaned in and kissed her.

Tegan slid her arms between his and pushed his hands away from her face. "Please, Kol, stop."

"Stop?" He expression hardened. "But this is what we both want."

"No, it's not." She began to rise, but he clamped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back down.

"Tegan, I've risked my job for you. Do you hear me? Do you have any idea how important this job is to me? What would happen if I were fired? I'd be sent back to—" He stopped and released her wrist.

"I don't want you to jeopardize your job," she said carefully, inching backward on the couch. "Maybe it's best if I just go back to my room now."

Kol folded his hands purposefully in his lap. "It's been a long time since I met anyone like you." His voice was gravelly and deep.

"And I appreciate all the nice things you've done for me." She stood and took a step toward the door. "But it's best if I go now."

He watched her blankly for a moment. She took another few steps then turned to grasp the doorknob. In an instant he had shot up from the couch and dashed across the small room to grip her shoulders. She flinched at the strength of his grasp.

"I want you," he said huskily. "Tell me you want this, too." He leaned in again.

"No," she said firmly.

"You don't mean it—"

"I do." She placed her hand on the doorknob. "Please let me go."

He dropped his hands from her shoulders, and she began to open the door. She did not expect the sudden blow that he delivered. His hand struck her cheek and nose with a force that knocked her back into the wall. She felt her head thump against the rough stucco, and for an instant the lights seemed to dim. She blinked, automatically swiping at the blood that had begun to flow from her nose.

Kol was leaning toward her, reaching for her arm.

"Get away from me!" she cried, struggling to her feet.

"Tegan, I'm sorry."

He grabbed at her hand, and she stumbled back. She was only a meter from the sofa table. As his fingers closed around her wrist, she lunged for the wine bottle, grasping it and swinging it at his head. He clearly did not expect this action from her, and he was too slow in his attempts to dodge the impromptu weapon. She struck him on the side of his head. The bottle shattered, wine splashing over Tegan and the floor. Kol's mouth opened, then he dropped her wrist and fell to his knees.

Tegan ran for the door, ripping it open then sprinting for the stairs. She clattered down halfway, then her heel caught, and she sprawled forward, barely catching herself with one hand on the railing. Still, her knees collided with the edge of a stair, and she felt her wrist twist painfully as she struggled to keep herself from tumbling all the way down to the ground. Finally she regained her balance and clambered down to the pathway.

She glanced up once at Kol's door, but it remained closed. Her hands, she saw, were covered in blood, and she knew that her face was as well. She bent her head and ran back toward the resort, resisting the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she murmured, oddly comforted by the repeated word as she limped toward her room.

* * *

Turlough had just finished showering and dressing in his slacks and T-shirt when he heard the knock at his door. Hesitantly he walked forward, saying, "Yes?"

"Turlough, it's me."

He opened the door to see the Doctor standing with a box in his hand and a perturbed expression on his face. He stepped into the room.

"Make yourself right at home," Turlough said rather acerbically as the Time Lord sank into a chair.

"The resistors didn't work," he said peevishly.

"The ones you got yesterday?"

The Doctor nodded. "I was nearly certain they would. I don't think these will be much better—"

"So that's going to delay our departure even more?"

The Doctor sighed. "Perhaps. I'm not sure. There are other things that I can try—"

Turlough remained standing, rubbing at the distinct crick in the side of his neck. The hot shower had done nothing to alleviate the deep ache.

"I thought the massage made it feel better," the Doctor said rather testily, pointing at Turlough's moving hand.

"Oh, it did at first. Then he used some technique that he called 'deeper' today, and it feels worse than ever."

"But that's a different spot, isn't it?"

"Yes." Turlough shook his head. "I think he had something against me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself. Is there anything I can do to help with the TARDIS?"

"As a matter of fact, there may be. That's why I stopped here. I could use your assistance with some of the wiring. I've made enough repairs that a few of the connections are nearly ready."

"Of course."

"You don't mind leaving here? I thought you were enjoying yourself—"

Turlough glanced at the massage table and rubbed again at this neck. "Somehow it's lost most of its appeal."

"I suppose I should tell Tegan that you'll be with me. She may wonder where you've gone." He stood.

"You aren't going to ask for her help?" Turlough inquired archly.

The Doctor shook his head. "Believe me, Turlough, the best way she can help is to stay away from the TARDIS."

He left the room and walked down the pathway to Tegan's room. He knocked at the door. There was no response, and he stood for a moment wondering where she might be. Probably the pool, he decided, and turned to walk away. A small noise, however, stopped him. Someone was moving about inside. He leaned in to press his ear to the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Tegan had kept her tears at bay until she returned to her room. Once securely locked inside, she had collapsed on the bed; her legs seemed to turn to jelly. The tears flowed freely, but she held back her sobs until she had removed her jacket and tossed it over a chair. There was blood on her sleeve, and she could not stand to look at it. She had grabbed a wad of tissue from the night table to hold over her nose.

Now she permitted the wracking sobs to escape her. The tears mixed with her blood, falling in pink drops to the white bed linens.

"Tegan?"

The voice was muffled through the door, but she tensed instantly. Had Kol come back for her?

There was a rapping then her name was spoken again. "Tegan. Are you all right?"

"Go away!" she cried hoarsely.

"Tegan, it's the Doctor. What's going on in there?"

"Nothing. Just leave me alone."

She thought that he had gone, but after a few seconds he spoke again. "There's blood your doorknob. Are you hurt?"

"I'll be all right," she called miserably, stifling a sob that seemed to choke her.

"Tegan, let me in—please."

She looked at the door for a moment. If Kol did return, she would be safer with the Doctor inside. But to have him see her like this… Still, her fear overrode her shame. She got up and hobbled to the door, unlocking it then turning away to hurry toward the bathroom before he could see her.

The Doctor stepped inside. Immediately he noticed her bloodied jacket and the drops on the duvet. Tegan's back was toward him, but he saw the blood on her hands clearly. He reached her in several rapid strides and placed his hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch.

"Tegan, what's wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She bent her head, but he stepped in front of her and lifted her chin. "Oh, Tegan!" he exclaimed when he saw her blood-smeared face. He took her elbow and led her to the bed to sit.

"What happened?" he asked, watching her closely.

"Stupid," she muttered, looking down again. "I was stupid."

A sweet smell drifted up from her. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "What is that? Wine?" He took a step back. "Tegan!" he said sternly. "Don't tell me that you drank too much and stumbled—"

She tried to swallow a sob, but it slipped out noisily. "No. The bottle broke," she choked out. She could not suppress her tears any longer, and she began to weep in earnest.

The Doctor sighed then sank down beside her to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She sat hunched next to him, sobbing for several minutes until she finally leaned into him. As he sat quietly his eyes swept over her legs. Both knees were red and scraped. She had obviously fallen.

When her breathing had steadied and she had calmed slightly, he lifted her chin to study her face. He could see that her cheek had begun to swell, but it was difficult to assess what damage had been done with the blood remaining.

"I'm going to get a washcloth," he said, standing.

He returned a minute later with a wet cloth and a clean towel. He pulled a chair up to the bed to sit before her, encouraging her to lift her head again with a touch at her chin. Carefully, and with the lightest pressure possible, he wiped away the blood and tears. She winced as the cloth passed over her cheek and nose.

"I think I should take you to the infirmary for an x-ray," he said.

She lifted a hand to her face to cover her cheek. "No, it's fine."

"Then at least let me have a look." He moved her hand and gently prodded her cheek and nose with his fingertips. "Nothing appears broken," he said.

She nodded miserably as he moved the washcloth down to wipe her scraped knees.

"Doctor." Turlough's voice startled both occupants of the room.

The Trion stood in the doorway, surveying the scene with widening eyes. "God, what happened?" he asked.

"Go to the concierge and see if you can get a first aid kit," the Doctor said.

"But what's—"

"Just go. Now." The Doctor's tone was firm.

Turlough left, and he returned his attention to Tegan. "How did the wine bottle break?" he asked her, growing impatient to find out the cause of her injuries.

"I hit him," she said softly.

"Hit him? Whom did you hit, Tegan?"

She shook her head, tears welling again. "I was stupid, I really was, thinking he enjoyed talking with me, that he just wanted someone to talk to, when he really wanted…" She pressed her hands over her eyes.

The Doctor grasped her wrists; she flinched at the touch on her right wrist, still sore from twisting in her fall. He lowered her hands, and she snatched back her arm to cradle her wrist in her left palm.

"Tell me who you're talking about," he said gravely.

"I just wanted someone to like me for me, not for anything else," she began, but he interrupted her.

"Tegan, tell me exactly what happened," he said peremptorily.

She looked up at him with large eyes. "He said he wanted to show me something, and I thought we were just going for a walk but he took me to his apartment. I didn't want to go inside—I told him I had to go—but he brought me in, and he said he…wanted me, and didn't I want him, and I said no, he'd misunderstood—" She paused to take a gasping breath. "And when I tried to leave he hit me—he knocked me against the wall—" She touched the back of her head.

Automatically the Doctor reached up to run his fingers over the lump that had formed. His scowl deepened.

"—and so I grabbed the wine bottle and hit him, and it broke, and now there's wine all over everything—"

The Doctor's hands had dropped into his lap as his eyes roamed over her body carefully. Her right wrist was obviously painful, and her knees were scraped. There were bruises forming on her shins as well. Her shoulders were bare above the strapless top she wore. He could see, now, the marks, precisely the size of fingertips, that marred her delicate shoulders. He had stopped listening to her.

"Tegan," he said slowly, deeply, "who did this to you?"

She shook her head, fighting back another sob. He grasped her hands, regretting the motion when she pulled her sore wrist away. He reached for her right hand and took it gingerly, massaging the wrist gently while he waited for her to respond.

Finally, patience waning, he said, "You have to tell me who did this."

She responded with another sob.

"Tegan!" His voice was firm and almost too loud for her agitated sensibilities. "Who did this?"

She swallowed. "Kol."

"Kol? Who is that? Is he the man you had dinner with last night?"

She nodded. "He's the assistant manager," she whispered.

The door opened and Turlough stepped in, carrying a plastic box.

"I got the kit," he began. "It was the last one they had. It seems that a lot of people have had accidents today—"

"Give it to me," the Doctor snapped, holding out his hand impatiently.

Turlough took a few steps toward the bed and gave the Time Lord the kit. He opened it so roughly that he nearly tore off the lid. He removed a small plastic cold pack and slapped it harshly against his leg to activate it, then placed it in Tegan's hand.

"Hold this over your cheek," he instructed.

Tegan lifted her hand but stopped, frozen momentarily as her eyes moved to the open door. Her face blanched, and a small gasp escaped her.

The Doctor followed her gaze. Kol stood in the doorway, his fists clenched at his sides. Blood trickled down his cheek from his temple, barely visible against his florid skin.

"Is that him?" the Doctor asked. Tegan would not have recognized the voice as her friend's if he were not standing before her.

She nodded. The Doctor's face darkened and hardened lividly as he stormed toward the doorway, pushing Turlough aside as he passed him.

"How dare you!" he shouted, grabbing Kol's collar.

Kol's eyes finally left Tegan, and he tried to twist away from the Doctor, but the Time Lord's hands were like steel. Before Kol could respond further, the Doctor's right arm dropped then swung forward in a powerful arc to slam into Kol's jaw. The manager began to fall to his knees, but the Doctor pulled him upward and struck him again. Blood dripped from the man's mouth, but he regained his senses sufficiently to kick at the Doctor's shins.

The Doctor skittered sideways, and Kol managed to deliver a solid punch to his face, striking him just above his chin. The Doctor's fury intensified with this attack, and he flung Kol to the ground, driving his fist into the assistant manager's face.

Turlough watched in abject fascination and mounting horror. He did not see Tegan stand and stumble toward him. She gripped his elbow, and he turned to her in surprise.

"Stop him!" she cried.

"But he's the one who did this to you—" began Turlough.

"Doctor!" she cried, limping past the Trion to grab at the Time Lord's shoulders. "Stop it!"

Kol's face was a blur of blood. He lay still with closed eyes. The Doctor lifted his hand again in preparation for another blow, but Tegan caught his wrist.

"Doctor, please!" she pleaded. "Stop it before you kill him!"

He lifted his head to look at her tear-stained face then stared for several seconds at his bloodied hand. He exhaled sharply then sat back on his heels. His expression was still choleric, but she could see that he was making an effort to calm himself. After a few moments he bent to press his fingers against Kol's throat then lift one of his eyelids.

"Is he dead?" Tegan asked in a quavering voice.

The Doctor shook his head. "No."

He stood slowly, then said with little emotion, "Turlough, find something to bind his hands. I don't know how he'll react when he regains consciousness."

As Turlough went into the bathroom, the Doctor took a few steps back, away from Kol. Tegan moved toward him and placed a tentative hand on his arm.

"You didn't have to do that," she said.

He looked up at her with clouded eyes. A small trail of blood ran from his lip down his chin. "He hurt you."

"And I was going to report him to the manager, and I'm sure he'd be fired. Doctor, what happened? Why did you do that to him? That's not like you."

The Doctor swiped at his chin then studied the blood on his hand for a moment before carefully wiping it away with the towel on the night table. "No," he said finally, "it's not."

Turlough returned with the sash from the bathrobe provided by the resort and tied Kol's wrists securely behind his back. "His hand is beginning to swell," he commented as he worked.

The Doctor returned to Kol and lifted his left hand. "He must have sprained it when he hit me." He touched the bracelet, examining it briefly. "This needs to come off. It's going to interfere with the circulation if the hand continues to swell."

Turlough leaned in to study the gold band. "I don't see a clasp."

"No. I'll have to cut it off." The Doctor removed a small tool from his pocket.

"Is that a laser?" asked Turlough.

"I was using it for the repairs," he replied. He pressed a button, and a small beam of blue light hit the bracelet. The Doctor quickly moved the beam over the band then shut off the device. He removed the bracelet in two pieces.

"What's that on his wrist?" asked Turlough, pointing at a small, black circular shape.

"It look like a tattoo," replied the Doctor. "This seems familiar to me…" His voice trailed off as his eyes moved back to Kol's face.

Tegan had turned to look out the window, staring at the flowers and trying to regain some of her composure. She had been shaking while she watched the Doctor attack Kol, but now her trembling had stopped. She was still frightened, though, both by Kol's assault and by her friend's brutal retaliation. She watched a couple near the window idly.

Suddenly she cried out, "Stop it!"

"Tegan?" the Doctor said. "What's the matter?"

She pressed her hands against the glass. "He just shoved her! That man—"

The individual in question received a hard slap in return from the woman with him, then she turned and stormed off in the opposite direction.

Tegan buried her face in her hands. "What's going on here?"

The Doctor looked from the man outside to Kol, then lifted his own hand once again. He glanced at Turlough to find the young man rubbing at his neck.

"That is a very good question, Tegan," he said.

She lowered her hands. "What?"

"Turlough, you said that there had been several accidents today?"

He nodded. "That's what the concierge told me when I asked for the kit. And he wasn't very nice about it, either."

The Doctor nodded then tapped at his forehead. "Think back to this morning, both of you. How were you feeling?"

"What do you mean?" Turlough asked.

"I mean compared with yesterday and the day before—how were you feeling? Any different?"

Turlough pointed at Tegan. "You were in a bad mood this morning," he said rather reproachfully.

"Me?" she retorted. "You were the one who kept harping about my boyfriend, when I told you there was nothing between us—"

"Maybe you should have told him that," Turlough rejoined derisively.

Tegan frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but the Doctor held up both hands. "That's enough, you two. This is not the time for fighting."

"He started it," Tegan began to accuse, but the Time Lord shook his head firmly.

"No, he didn't. There is something the matter here. Think about how calm and relaxed you felt the first two days here; I felt it as well. There was a real sense of tranquility here. And now we're all on edge, losing control of our emotions…" He paused to glance at Kol with mild regret. "I can sense that something has changed. The other guests, I believe, are feeling it, too."

"I saw several people arguing today," Tegan confirmed.

"And I still say the masseur was angry with me," Turlough added.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "And even Kol— His behavior, I suspect, was not typical. Had he shown any signs of violence before?"

"No," Tegan replied. "He was very sweet and gentle."

"So what's going on?" asked Turlough.

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't know, but perhaps we should speak with the manager."

Turlough and the Doctor lifted Kol to the bed, then the three companions set out to find the manager. As they walked along the pathways, they noticed several people arguing. Some were guests, but others were employees, identifiable by their gold bracelets. When they passed the pool and bar where Tegan had met Kol, they saw the bartender breaking up a fight between two men.

A fourth man hurried toward the melee, and Tegan pointed at him, saying, "I think he's the manager. He was talking with Kol."

The Doctor hurried forward as the manager pushed one of the would-be pugilists off toward the pathway; the bartender escorted the other participant in the opposite direction.

"Excuse me," the Time Lord said. "Are you the resort manager?"

The man turned toward them, distress and mistrust apparent in his expression. "Yes, I'm Mr. Druus. Who are you?" he replied.

"I'm the Doctor, and these two have been guests here for the past several days."

The manager stared at Tegan's face for a moment. "Good lord, what happened to you?"

"Your assistant manager, Kol, attacked her," the Doctor replied, clearly working to keep his fury at bay.

"Kol? Oh, I'm sorry! He'll be dismissed immediately, of course, and sent back—"

"That's not why we're here," the Doctor interrupted. "Something is the matter here. It seems that people are having trouble controlling their emotions. Aside from Kol's behavior, there have been numerous other incidents of belligerence, haven't there?"

The manager's eyes moved from the Doctor to Tegan then back to the Time Lord. He was obviously agitated. "You said you're a doctor?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I was just at the infirmary. Our staff physician has his hands full—bruises and sprains and bloody noses—and he came close to slapping the nurse—he's barely keeping himself together—"

"This just began today?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes."

"Has anything like this ever happened here before?"

"Never. Sanadia-3 is rated among the best resorts in the system. Our guests rank us as superior in services, facilities, and, most importantly, on the tranquil ambience."

"And it is that ambience that has changed, and only as of this morning," the Doctor clarified.

"It seems so," Druus confirmed.

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Do you have any idea what could be causing this change?"

The manager shook his head. "No."

"Could it be some sort of drug?" asked Turlough. "Maybe something in the food or water?"

"Possibly," the Doctor replied. "We can take samples for analysis."

Tegan said, "If it's a drug, then someone has done this intentionally."

"Who would want to do that?" asked Turlough.

"I don't know," Druus responded.

"The first thing we must determine is what is causing this," the Doctor said. "Let's split up and get samples of food and water from each restaurant. Get water from the bars, too, and mark the containers so we'll know where they came from."

"I'm afraid that our lab facilities are rather basic," the manager said, wiping a hand across his perspiring brow. "We aren't equipped for much more than simple blood and food bacteria analyses."

"I have facilities on my ship," the Doctor replied. "I can analyze the samples there."

As the Doctor began to walk away, the manager grabbed his arm. "Tell me who you really are," he hissed.

The Time Lord glared at him. "Pardon me?"

"You're from the Federation, aren't you? You're trying to tarnish our reputation—"

"Let go of me." The Doctor pulled his arm away. "And get a hold of yourself, man. I don't work for anyone. I'm simply trying to help. You've obviously got a big problem here."

He stalked away, leaving the manager mopping a handkerchief over his dripping face.

* * *

Assured that the Doctor could begin his tests without her, Tegan had gone to her room in the TARDIS immediately to shower and change out of the bloodied clothes. She felt considerably better when she had donned a fresh dress and re-applied her makeup. She dabbed some foundation and blush over her discolored cheek so that the bruise was less evident.

When she joined the Doctor in the lab, hidden behind a door she had passed a hundred times, she found him and Turlough hard at work with test tubes and various beakers of different colored liquids.

"Well?" she inquired. "Have you found out what's causing it?"

The Doctor looked up. "No. As far as I can tell, there is no contamination in any of the food or water."

She sat down on a stool. "So what do you think it is?"

"I really don't know," he replied. He studied her for a moment, then commented, "You're looking much better. How do you feel?"

"It's amazing what a shower and a little makeup can do. My mum always said that a girl feels better as soon as she puts on a touch of lipstick—"

"So you are feeling better?"

She nodded. "I am."

He looked over at Turlough. "How about you?"

"Me?" asked the Trion.

"Yes. Are you feeling any calmer or less anxious?"

"Well," replied Turlough, "I wouldn't say I was anxious before—"

"Irritable is more like it," offered Tegan.

He glared at her for an instant. "I suppose I feel a little less tense."

"As do I," said the Doctor. "The TARDIS seems to have had a positive effect on us."

"So you think whatever is causing everyone to lose control is something in the environment?" asked Turlough.

"Perhaps." The Doctor reached into his pocket and removed the two halves of Kol's bracelet. "I wonder," he began, then turned to remove a small scanner from one of the lab tables. He switched it on and ran it over the bracelet.

"What are you doing?" Tegan asked.

"It may be something in the bracelets. All of the employees wear them, don't they?" The Doctor continued scanning the band.

"But that wouldn't explain why the guests—including you—are acting this way," Turlough added.

"And not every employee wears one of those," Tegan said.

The Doctor looked up. "No?"

"No. Kol said that most of them do, but I noticed the manager didn't have one, and neither did the bartender."

The Doctor returned his gaze to the band. "Did Kol mention why they wear these?"

"He said it was to identify the employees to the guests, so that we would always know who to ask for assistance," Tegan replied.

"That can't be right," the Doctor said, "if some of the employees don't wear them."

"Kol's was covering that mark—that tattoo—on his wrist," Turlough reminded his companions.

The Doctor nodded. "So it was." He set the bracelet on the table and seemed to trace a design on the metal top with his fingertip. "That pattern…" He glanced at the scanner again then looked up. "These crystals seem to act as some sort of receiver."

"Receiver?" repeated Turlough. "For what?"

"I don't know, and quite frankly I'm not certain how this could affect anyone's emotions. I had suspected that the bracelets contained some type of substance that was affecting the wearers and perhaps others as well, but there's nothing here—"

"What could they receive?" Tegan asked abruptly.

"Electrical impulses, but it may be merely a coincidence. The crystals are relatively rare and could simply be decorative. Their receptivity may be a fluke."

"So we're no closer to figuring out what's going on here, and we're not even much closer to being able to leave here—" began Turlough.

The Doctor slapped the table with his hand. "That's it!"

Turlough and Tegan stared at him in puzzlement.

The Time Lord stood and hurried out of the room, grabbing a hand-held device as he passed a table near the door. Turlough and Tegan followed him to the console room. He had already ducked beneath the console. After a moment he emerged with a triumphant grin.

"Well?" asked Tegan. "What is it?"

"This explains why the resistors didn't work. The circuits have been affected very subtly by outside electrical impulses."

His grin faded quickly to an expression of concern. He moved the lever to open the door then ushered his companions outside.

"Where are we going?" asked Tegan, already feeling anxious outside the confines of the TARDIS.

The Doctor had lifted the device above his head. It emitted several faint beeps. He stepped back inside, motioning to Tegan and Turlough to follow. They complied, and he closed the door.

He moved a small switch on the device upward then turned to face Tegan. "Stand still," he instructed.

He passed the device over her eyes then pressed the tip of it against her temple. The beeping began again.

"Open the door, Turlough," he said, pulling Tegan outside with him. Again he moved the device in front of her eyes and rested it against her temple. The beeping intensified.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suddenly apprehensive at his use of this odd tool on her. She pushed his hand away.

He frowned. "Turlough, come here."

The Trion lad obeyed, and he was subjected to the same maneuvers. After he had finished, the Doctor turned the device on himself, his frown deepening. "Go and get the bracelet from the lab," he said. Turlough hurried away.

"Doctor?" Tegan asked nervously as he moved the device back toward her. "What is that thing? What are you looking for?"

"This measures electrical activity. It's very sensitive and can detect all types of current."

"Which is how you knew about the resistors?"

He nodded then bent his head to study the instrument again.

"But what does it mean—"

"Sshh, Tegan, I can't think with your incessant yammering!" he barked.

Tegan blinked, feeling as though she had been struck physically by her friend. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He looked up at her. The makeup had done little to conceal the bruise on her cheek. She looked truly wounded.

He took a deep breath and stepped toward her to rest his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tegan," he said, modulating his voice with effort. "I'm going to explain this in a moment, as soon as Turlough returns. There is just one more thing that I need to check…"

Turlough exited the TARDIS and held out the bracelet halves to the Doctor, but the Time Lord shook his head. "No, I want you to hold them. Place them on your wrist if you will."

Turlough complied, and the Doctor ran the device over his eyes and temple again. The beeping intensified; even Tegan could hear the difference.

Turlough had grown visibly agitated in the few seconds since he had donned the bracelet. He pushed the instrument away from his temple roughly and took several steps back. "Get that away from me," he growled irritably.

The Doctor quickly reached for the bracelet pieces and pulled them from Turlough's wrist, then tossed them into the TARDIS. Turlough appeared stunned for an instant then swallowed. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's not your fault," the Doctor said. "The bracelet intensified the effects."

"Effects of what?" asked Tegan hesitantly, the Doctor's harsh rebuff still fresh in her mind.

The Doctor stepped back into the TARDIS, motioning for his companions to follow. Once inside, he said, "Our brains operate on electrical impulses. These impulses can be measured as waves—"

"Like delta waves?" Tegan interrupted. Immediately she regretted this and pressed a hand to her mouth, muttering, "Sorry."

"It's all right, Tegan," the Doctor said. "And you're correct. Delta waves are one type of brain wave. They are associated with sleep. When Nyssa collapsed shortly after we left the Urbankan ship, her brain waves had been disrupted by the treatment she received in the mobiliary. I induced her into a deep sleep state with the delta wave augmenter, which allowed her brain wave function to return to normal, or reset itself, if you will."

Tegan's expression reflected her sudden understanding. "So what's happening here has something to do with brain waves?"

"Yes," responded the Doctor, holding the device aloft. "This has shown me that electrical impulses are being transmitted. While we are awake and alert, our brains produce beta waves at about fourteen cycles per second. When I measured our brain waves in here, I found a slight increase in beta wave activity, approximately 20 cycles per second. However, when we stepped outside, the activity increased significantly, to 50 per second, and when you put on the bracelet, Turlough, your beta wave production increased even more. High beta wave activity is associated with anxiety, which I believe is the source of the difficulties out there. Something, or someone, is producing extremely powerful and directed electrical impulses that are affecting the neural activity of everyone on Sanadia-3."

"And you said it even affected the resistors in here?" asked Turlough.

"Yes. If the TARDIS were not damaged, the effects would be blocked entirely in here. However, the damage, I'm afraid, has affected the TARDIS's shields to some extent."

"Wait a second," Tegan said, forgetting her reticence in her desire to comprehend the situation fully. "So you're saying that everyone is freaking out because something is scrambling our brain waves, and the bracelets make it even worse—"

"That is correct," confirmed the Doctor. "The crystals act as receivers that pick up even stronger signals from the transmission."

"But who would do something like that?" she asked. "What's the point?"

The Doctor bent to retrieve the bracelet from the floor. "I'm not sure that this was intentional."

"So you're suggesting that someone just built and turned on some gigantic transmitter for no reason?" Tegan asked.

The Doctor ran his fingers over the bracelet. "No, I'm not. Perhaps the transmitter was intended for a different purpose." Without another word he strode from the room into the hallway.

Tegan and Turlough waited for several minutes, but he did not return immediately.

"Where's he gone?" asked Tegan.

"How should I know?"

"Look, you don't have to get nasty about it—"

The Doctor reappeared, scolding, "That's enough, you two!" He still held the device in his hand, but Tegan noticed that a small cylinder had been attached to the base of it.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"One more small experiment," the Time Lord replied. He stood before her, taking her chin in his hand. "Don't move," he instructed.

"What are you doing?" she protested, squirming involuntarily as the device began to flash brightly in her eyes.

He held her chin firmly, passing the device before her eyes for several seconds then pressing it against her forehead. She felt a small, unpleasant jolt and jerked back, nearly falling onto her behind. The Doctor grabbed her hand just before she hit the floor.

"What was that?" she asked, rubbing her forehead with a scowl.

Without replying, the Doctor led her outside then adjusted the device before passing it in front of her eyes again. This time it did not flash; it merely emitted a few faint beeps.

"Excellent!" he proclaimed, smiling with satisfaction. "Turlough, you're next."

"Next for what?" the Trion asked warily. He was not certain he wanted to subject himself to whatever had caused Tegan to fall back.

Lifting the device again, the Doctor responded, "For immunity—at least for the next several hours."

Tegan pointed at his hand. "That's going to keep our brains from freaking out?"

He nodded. "Yes, temporarily. We won't be of much help if we're in a constant state of anxiety. That can lead to aggression, and… well, I think we all know the repercussions of that. Turlough, come."

The Doctor performed the brief treatment on Turlough then upon himself. He tucked the device into his pocket and began to walk down the hill.

"Where are we going?" asked Tegan.

"Back to the resort," he replied. "Someone must know about the transmitter and how to stop it."


	5. Chapter 5

As they approached the resort, the three travelers could see that near-pandemonium had broken out. People stood about arguing, shoving, and even hitting each other; tempers seemed to flare without provocation. As they neared the closest building, they saw Joyara in heated debate with another woman, presumably a guest. Joyara had leaned into her opponent aggressively, reaching for her hair.

The Doctor quickly slipped behind Joyara and pulled her back, pinning her arms to her sides. "Turlough," he said, "get the laser cutter from my pocket and remove her bracelet."

Turlough nodded, complying immediately. Joyara struggled against the Doctor's grip, cursing in a most undignified and unprofessional manner, but Turlough managed to cut through the gold and slip the bracelet off of her wrist. While he worked, the Doctor moved his device over her eyes then held it to her forehead.

"She has one of those tattoos, too," Turlough exclaimed.

The Doctor glanced down at her arm. "Where did you get this?" he asked, loosening his grip.

She touched her forehead then lunged away from him. "Let go of me! I'm not your property. You have no right!" She stalked off indignantly.

The Doctor stood for a moment staring at the tattoo until Joyara was out of his sight. "I just can't place it," he murmured.

"Sometimes they use brands," Turlough said softly.

"Pardon me?" the Doctor asked.

"On some of the prison colonies," Turlough clarified, "they brand the prisoners. I've heard that on others they tattoo them."

"Yes," the Doctor confirmed, "you're right. That's where I've seen it before—not that precise design, but similar ones on Scourgon 5 and other penal colonies."

"Do you think the bracelet was intended to cover it up?" asked Tegan.

"Let's find out." The Doctor walked along the pathway, eyes scanning quickly around until he veered off to the right.

His companions saw a partially-open door with the words "Jaldar Druus, Executive Manager" painted in fine gold across the front.

The Doctor did not knock; he simply pushed open the door. Druus sat at his desk, a handkerchief pressed to his forehead. He was obviously agitated.

"There is no contamination in the food or water," the Doctor said unceremoniously, placing his hands on the large, ornate desk and leaning forward over Druus. "But I'm quite certain that you already knew that."

The manager looked up. "No, I—I mean, our food is the highest quality, of course there's no contamination in it—"

"Your workers," the Doctor interjected. "Where do they come from?"

Druus cleared his throat. "From several different planets. The opportunity to work here is always a draw."

"And the opportunity to leave the penal colony makes it even more appealing, doesn't it?" The Doctor leaned forward even further. "Only you can't risk that any of them might become violent, so you weld the receiver bracelets onto their wrists the moment they arrive, or probably even before they get here, to ensure that they remain calm. The bracelets hide their tattoos as well."

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

The Doctor lifted his hand to point a finger at Druus. "And the ambience here," he continued, "the feeling of peace and tranquility—that's because of the transmissions. They stimulate low-level delta and theta waves. At first you used them just to keep the workers in line, but soon you discovered that they had a positive effect on the guests, too, that everyone felt calm here."

Tegan stepped forward. "That's why you can operate so cheaply," she said. "You don't have to pay the prisoners very much—maybe nothing at all, just room and board—so you and your corporation keep most of the money the government gives you."

Druus' mouth moved spasmodically, and he pressed a hand to his chest. The Doctor scooted around the desk quickly and withdrew the device from his pocket. A moment after he pressed it against Druus' forehead, the manager fell back in his chair, his eyes closed. The Doctor shook his head in mild disgust then lifted the man's limp wrist.

"Doctor?" Tegan asked. "Is he all right?"

Dropping his wrist, the Time Lord replied, "He'll be fine in a minute. See if you can find him some water."

By the time Tegan returned from an adjacent sitting room with a glass of water, Druus had come around. He sat with his head in his hands but accepted the water with a small nod. The Doctor had perched on the edge of the desk. After Druus took several swallows of water, the Time Lord spoke to him firmly.

"You've got an extremely serious situation here. The transmitter is malfunctioning, stimulating everyone's brains in precisely the opposite way from its original intent. If this continues, you will most certainly see major casualties—grave injuries or even deaths as the acute anxiety intensifies. I will help you, but you must tell me the truth."

Druus pointed at the device upon the desk. "What is that?"

Tucking the instrument back into his pocket, the Doctor said, "It provides a temporary return to normal brain wave activity."

"And we can use it on everyone here?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. It only has sufficient power for ten to twelve more usages. The best thing you can do is to remove the bracelets from all of your employees. That will alleviate the effects of the transmission somewhat—"

"But they may become violent!" Druus protested.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Were most of them imprisoned for violent crimes?"

"We don't have any murderers here, if that's what you mean," Druus said rather imperiously.

"But others have committed crimes using violence, haven't they? Their sentences would not be long if they had not. You will have to take the risk that some may revert to their earlier tendencies; it is preferable to the known effects that wearing the bracelets have." He pointed at Tegan, who covered her cheek self-consciously.

"All right," Druus said tiredly, "I'll have the bracelets removed, but then what?"

"Get as many guests onto transport ships as you can, and take them back to their home planets."

Druus glanced out the window before responding to this. "There isn't another ship due in until the day after tomorrow."

"Then put them in your ship and take them—"

"I can't," Druus interjected. "We have one ship; we use it for medical emergencies, but it only holds five including the pilot, and it's… out of commission."

"Out of commission?"

"I checked it an hour ago—"

"I see," the Doctor said summarily. "You were planning to leave here."

"No, no—I was just making sure that it was ready, in case someone needed it. But it's been damaged—the windows have been smashed—"

"So," Turlough said, "you haven't got any way to get people out of here. Doctor, could we use the TARDIS?"

The Time Lord shook his head. "No, Turlough, she's not even close to being operational. I'm afraid that the trip here took quite a toll on the systems."

"So what can I do?" Druus asked miserably.

"You are going to tell us precisely how this transmission works, and where the transmitter is located, and I am going to attempt to readjust or deactivate it."

Druus began mopping at his forehead again. "I don't know how it works," he began.

"Tell me exactly what you do know. And tell me everything, or I will not be able to help you."

Druus nodded, his expression one of trapped acquiescence. "All right, Doctor. All I know is that yes, there is a transmitter, and you're right about its function. It sends out some sort of impulses that make everyone feel calmer—the engineer at corporate headquarters said it changes their brain waves somehow. I don't know any more about how it works."

"Where is it located? Show me the building."

Druus shook his head. "It's not here."

"Not here? Not on the planet?"

"No, I mean it's not here at the resort. It's out there, beyond the complex, maybe fifteen kilometers. I went out there once when I first arrived here, but the engineers maintain it."

"So there is a team that works out there?"

"Just the engineer and his assistant. Every four days one of them returns here for twenty-four hours' rest; they alternate."

"When was he here last?"

"Two days ago."

"And did he mention any problems with the transmitter?"

"No, everything was fine."

The Doctor handed Druus the communicator on the desk. "Call him now."

Druus picked up the receiver then put it back down. "I already did—at least a dozen times since everything started to…go wrong, but they're not answering."

The Doctor stood. "When are the engineers from your corporate headquarters arriving?"

Druus swallowed hard. "I… haven't sent for them yet."

"Haven't sent for them?" The Doctor slammed his hand down on the desk. "Why not? Surely you didn't think you could handle this by yourself?"

"I…" Druus' foot tapped against the bottom of the desk. "I was hoping I'd be able to reach our crew. No need to notify corporate until we're sure we've got a problem—"

"Until you're sure you've got a problem?" the Doctor repeated. "And just how long were you planning to wait? How many people needed to be hurt before you admitted that you couldn't handle this on your own?"

"It'll mean my job—"

"Your job?" the Doctor cried. "Your job for the lives of how many people?"

"Please, Doctor," Druus pleaded, the small amount of remaining color draining from his face, "I will call them, I'll get them here as soon as possible, but it won't be for at least twelve hours. But in the meantime, please do what you can—"

"Of course!" snapped the Time Lord. "Now tell me where that transmitter is."

* * *

Druus provided a hand-drawn map illustrating the route to the transmitter. He led the three visitors to a small outbuilding where the vehicles were kept. There was little need for transportation within the resort, but guests were driven the short distance from the spaceport to the complex. The attendant had vanished from the garage, so Druus swung open the large door.

"Damn," he muttered.

The Doctor, Tegan, and Turlough looked over his shoulders to see that the four vehicles, which somewhat resembled golf carts, had been fiercely vandalized. Tires were slashed and windshields shattered on three of the cars. One seemed to have sustained less damage, and the Doctor immediately examined it, lifting the hood to study the engine then sliding across the seat to turn the key in the ignition. The engine spluttered then caught, emitting a rough purr.

"This one will do," he said shortly. "Come on."

Tegan and Turlough climbed inside, Tegan next to the Doctor and Turlough in the back seat. The Doctor began to back the vehicle out of the garage but paused next to Druus.

"You're going to call your corporate office immediately," he reminded the manager firmly. "And I'd suggest that you get as many guests to their rooms as possible, and encourage them to remain inside." He reached into his pocket and grasped the laser cutter, which he tossed to Druus. "Use this for the bracelets."

He maneuvered the cart out of the garage and turned the wheel to steer it along the pathway leading away from the complex.

"Doctor," said Tegan, "I know that the TARDIS can't travel right now, but couldn't we put the people inside? You said the transmissions couldn't reach us in there—"

"No," he corrected, "I said that they did not affect us as strongly inside. Be that as it may, it would be extremely difficult to move all of the people from the resort into the TARDIS—a bit like herding a group of stampeding cattle, I should think. And in their current emotional states, the shock upon entering the TARDIS would be rather severe."

"I suppose you're right," she conceded. "Do you think you can fix the transmitter?"

"I imagine so," he replied, slowing the vehicle as the paved pathway yielded to a grassy stretch of land.

Turlough leaned forward from the back seat. "So the transmitter is sending completely different signals now, right? What would cause that to happen?"

The Doctor steered around a small rise. "Some sort of malfunction, most likely, but it is odd that the engineer isn't answering his phone."

"Do you think something happened, like an explosion?" asked Turlough.

"Possibly."

Tegan was surveying the landscape with a growing frown. "It's changed completely," she commented. "It's so bleak out here."

The lush, manicured resort grounds had disappeared as they traveled away from the complex. Now they saw only scrubby, olive green and grey bushes, and dry grass. A few sparse trees scattered dead leaves over the flat stretches of land. In the distance more hills rose up; the map indicated that the transmitter lay just over these.

"It's like we're on a different planet," she said.

The Doctor glanced over the land, careful to avoid the bushes as he drove along. "They've brought most of the water to the resort," he said, nodding toward a wide pipeline that ran back to the complex. "This planet is semi-arid, which makes the climate mild with very little rain."

"But the entire area around the complex is so beautiful," Tegan began.

"The results of irrigation and attractive use of landscaping," the Doctor finished.

Turlough lifted his hand and swept it across the vista. "And this is probably another reason the Sanadia Corporation chose to build here—it was so desolate that they got it cheaply. Between this and the use of prisoners for staff, the corporation must have made a fortune on this place."

Tegan had grown silent at the mention of prisoners. She sank back against the seat, shoulders hunched, watching the bleak landscape. It was becoming less flat, with small rises on either side of the vehicle. "What," she began tentatively after a time, "what do you think he did?"

The Doctor looked quickly at her then focused his gaze on the land again. "I hope he's called corporate by now."

"No," she said, "I mean Kol."

"Oh." The Doctor removed his left hand from the steering wheel to pat her knee, glancing at her again. "I'm sure it—"

"Doctor!" cried Turlough, "watch out!"

There was a rise to the right, and the vehicle banked slightly as the tires moved over the incline. A large patch of thorny bushes lay directly ahead of them. The car could not avoid the thicket if the Doctor guided it back down; he had no choice but to force it up the incline. He accelerated, twisting the wheel to encourage the vehicle to push upward, but the engine had little additional power. The car began to slide back down the rise, toward the bushes.

The Doctor slammed his foot against the accelerator, and the car shuddered forward in a small leap. "Hang on!" he yelled.

The vehicle arced slightly up the bank then, barely clear of the thicket, and the Time Lord jerked the wheel to turn it toward the flatter ground just below. The engine spluttered and died. The Doctor reached for the handbrake, but discovered quite immediately that the entire system relied upon electricity. The brakes would not function without the motor running. The car began to slide forward toward the bushes. The Doctor turned the key again, but the engine refused to cooperate. The car slammed head-first into the thicket.

Turlough flew forward, his momentum stopped only when his head hit the dashboard. Tegan had reached out to grip the support post near the hood, but she was still pushed upward and half-way out of the vehicle. The Doctor's hands clamped onto the steering wheel, and he braced his body with his feet at the useless pedals. Still, his knees struck the underside of the dash.

Tegan lowered herself back down to the seat, grasping her wrist, already sore from her earlier fall. Turlough had reached up to press his hands over his crown. Tentatively he lifted his shoulders and head to sit back against the seat. The Doctor slid out the open side of the car to evaluate the damage to the vehicle, then, with a sigh, he turned back to his companions.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked, grimacing slightly as he brushed dirt off of his knees.

"Cripes, Doctor," responded Tegan, "what happened?"

"I didn't realize that the landforms had changed so rapidly," he began. "This is unusual terrain—" He stopped, then simply said, "Sorry."

Turlough had raised his legs and now rested his head on his knees. He kneaded at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Turlough?" the Doctor inquired. "How's your head?"

The Trion lifted his head slowly. An angry lump was already forming on his forehead, just beneath his hairline. "Great," he muttered sardonically, "now I have a second pain to match the one in my neck."

The Doctor leaned into the vehicle to study Turlough's eyes for a moment. "You'll be all right," he said, straightening as he rested his hand on the hood. "However, I'm afraid that I can't say the same for the car."

Tegan got out of the vehicle, still rubbing at her wrist. "So what do we do now?"

The Doctor glanced back in the direction from which they had come then turned his head toward the hills ahead. "Druus' map shows that the transmission station is just over the hills. We've already driven about ten kilometers, so it shouldn't be much further now."

"You're not suggesting that we walk?" Tegan said with a scowl.

The Doctor had already begun to move. "Come along," he called without looking back.

Turlough and Tegan exchanged glances. For once they were in agreement; neither was happy about the prospect of a five-kilometer trek over the barren hills.

* * *

They walked in silence for some time. Turlough's neck was terribly stiff, and he found that the slightest movement caused him considerable pain. His head throbbed, too. He truly wanted nothing more than to sit down beneath a tree, close his eyes, and slip away for a few minutes… But he kept up with the Doctor's pace, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.

Tegan tromped along unhappily, too. The vivid memory of Kol's treatment and the Doctor's outburst nagged at her, and she found herself becoming anxious and fearful. Her eyes darted all around continuously, seeking the slightest movement, confirming her suspicion that something was watching and waiting. Once she was certain that she saw a dark shape dash across the adjacent hillside. She stopped, exclaiming, "Did you see that?"

The Doctor and Turlough paused, the latter lifting his head reluctantly.

"What?" the Doctor asked, looking about.

"There was something over there—I think it went behind those bushes," she said rather breathlessly.

"It was probably just an animal," the Doctor said. "I'm sure there is some wildlife out here, though I imagine that anything other than birds is discouraged from nearing the resort."

"But it could be something dangerous," Tegan persisted, edging closer to the Doctor. "Did you see it, Turlough?"

"No," he replied flatly, angry that she had made him move his head. "It was probably just your imagination."

"No, it wasn't! I know I saw something!"

"Well, just keep your fancies to yourself from now on," Turlough said testily.

"It wasn't a fancy! Someone might have followed us out here—"

Turlough rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Tegan, like who? Like your boyfriend? I imagine he got quite enough of you this afternoon—"

Tegan whirled on him, lifting her hand to slap him across the face. The Doctor's arm whipped upward, catching Tegan's wrist and pulling her hand down.

"That's enough!" he said sternly. His expression darkened, but after a moment he took a breath and reached into his pocket. "The transmissions are beginning to affect all of us again."

He switched on the device and quickly passed it before Tegan's eyes then pressed it over her forehead. She stood quietly for a moment when he had finished, appearing slightly dazed. He moved on to Turlough but paused, mindful of the lump on his brow, which lay in precisely the spot best suited for the treatment. He moved the device a few centimeters lower and activated the final pulse, hoping that the effects would not be altered by the slight change in position.

"Hey, watch it!" Turlough began to protest, but as soon as the treatment ended he, like Tegan, stood still for a few seconds.

The Doctor rapidly used the device on himself then tucked it back into his pocket. "Feeling better?" he asked as he looked up.

Tegan nodded. "Thanks, Doctor."

Turlough had not moved.

"Turlough?" the Doctor inquired.

The Trion finally blinked. "Oh, yes, I suppose so."

"The effects of the transmitter are becoming more intense as we near it, so we'll need to have the treatments more frequently. As soon as either of you begin feeling irritable or anxious let me know."

"But you said the device could only be used ten or twelve times," Tegan reminded him.

"Yes, but that still leaves at least seven—that's two more for each of us."

"And if you should need it for the engineer and his assistant?" Turlough asked.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." The Doctor began walking again.

Within a few minutes, it became clear that Tegan had not imagined the movement on the hillside. An animal the size of a medium dog sprinted down the hill, followed by another very similar creature.

"That's it!" Tegan exclaimed. "That's what I saw!" She turned back to Turlough for an instant. "See, I told you I wasn't imagining things!"

"Well good for you," he said tartly.

"Back to your old selves, I see," the Doctor commented rather tiredly, still watching the animals. They resembled canines in more than size. The pursuer had caught up to its quarry and now clamped its mouth over the other's hindquarters. The bitten animal let out an odd, squealing yowl.

Tegan squinted slightly to see the animals in detail. "They look just alike. Are they the same species?"

"It seems so," the Doctor replied.

"But why is the one attacking the other? Don't wild dogs usually hunt in packs?" Tegan asked.

"They may turn on each other if they're starving," the Doctor explained, "but I don't think that's the case here. The transmissions have probably affected them, too, causing similar aggression and fear."

The animals struggled for a minute, then the attacker managed to deliver a fatal bite to his opponent's neck. The quarry fell to the ground instantly. The other animal lifted its head to sniff the air. Its head turned, and its sharp eyes seemed to lock on the three travelers. Tegan was nearly certain that she heard it snort, but the Doctor's hand around her arm, tugging her away, prevented any more detailed observation.

The three ran to the top of the hill then continued down, driven forward somewhat by the decline. The Doctor's eyes skimmed the area, then he yelled, "Over there!" as he pointed at a small copse of spindly trees.

Tegan glanced back to see the animal in pursuit. It moved incredibly fast, and now she was certain that she could hear its angry grunts. It was nearing them quickly. The Doctor reached the trees first and broke off a branch, yelling, "Get behind me."

Turlough and Tegan complied as the animal lunged for the Doctor. He extended the branch toward the beast; it clamped onto the wood with its teeth, snarling as foam began to ooze from its lips. After a moment it seemed to realize that the branch was not its intended prey, and it released the dry bark as its blazing eyes locked onto the Doctor. It growled then opened its mouth to give an eerie, almost plaintive cry before it dropped to the ground.

The animal lay unmoving on its side, its glassy eyes still open but clearly unseeing. The Doctor prodded it tentatively with the branch, but it did not respond.

"It's dead," he said.

"What happened to it?" asked Tegan.

"I imagine its heart gave out from the extreme exertion."

Tegan bent to study the animal for a moment. "Rabbits. Could that happen to us?"

"Not if we get the transmitter repaired. Come on." The Doctor walked away from the copse toward the next hill.

As the small group walked, they saw several other animals that had clearly been affected by the transmissions. A large gray bird swooped down upon them, attempting to attack them with its sharp talons. A small, frightened mammal skittered out of a bush and caught the bird's attention, however, before it could inflict any serious damage. Tegan was still shaken from the incident, and the Doctor had to place his arm around her to encourage her to continue on. Her eyes scanned the sky frequently; she seemed to anticipate another attack at any moment. She was growing anxious again.

Turlough walked slightly behind them, his head still bent as he tried to knead his sore neck. The Doctor could not judge the young man's emotional state without seeing his face.

"Turlough," he said without stopping, "how are you feeling?"

"Just great," the Trion muttered, barely looking up.

"I realize that your head and neck are sore, but are you beginning to feel any anxiety?"

"I don't know," he responded morosely. "All I can really feel is my damned neck."

"It shouldn't be much farther now," the Doctor said, trying to muster a heartening tone, but he could feel a vague apprehension creeping up upon him, too. He hesitated to give his companions another treatment so soon; he felt certain that it would be several hours, at the least, before the transmitter was repaired, and the device he had hastily created would not sustain its effectiveness indefinitely.

He led Tegan along and kept an eye on Turlough as he trudged behind them. It seemed best to remain quiet; at least without conversation there was little danger of either of his companions baiting the other.

He felt Tegan flinch beside him when several small birds fluttered past overhead. She looked back then gripped the Doctor's hand. "There's someone following us," she said.

The Doctor turned to survey the hills behind them. He saw no movements, save the small rustle of leaves in the breeze. There were a few scrubby bushes, but he doubted that anyone could hide behind these.

"Tegan," he said reasonably, "no one has followed us. The other vehicles were damaged, remember? There isn't any way that someone could get out here this quickly on foot."

"It's just your imagination again," Turlough scoffed.

Tegan studied the Doctor's face for a moment; he appeared sincere, and she wanted to trust him. "I'm sure I saw something," she began.

"More flights of fancy!" Turlough said derisively. "Don't listen to her, Doctor—"

Tegan turned to glare at Turlough. "And was it just my imagination that you shouldn't be trusted, that you were hiding something from us? If I'd paid better attention to that feeling we wouldn't be out here now! We'd have left you on Earth or on Mawdryn's ship—some place where your secrets couldn't hurt us."

The Doctor stepped in front of Tegan. "That's enough."

"But he isn't even sorry! He doesn't even care that he almost got you killed—"

Turlough frowned in resentment and indignation. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

The Doctor lifted his hands. "You have to stop this—both of you!"

"It's his fault," Tegan began.

Turlough took a step toward Tegan, and the Doctor's hand shot out toward his chest. "Stop it!" His voice had risen considerably with his rapidly mounting irritation.

Tegan shrank back at Turlough's and the Doctor's sudden movements. Turlough pushed the Doctor's arm away roughly, but the Time Lord stepped in front of him. "Keep away from her," he said darkly.

"She's asking for it," Turlough spat, "just like she asked for it from Kol—"

The Doctor grabbed Turlough's collar in one swift motion, pulling the young man forward, nearly dragging him off of the ground, barking roughly, "No one deserves to be treated like that."

Turlough reached up to grasp the Doctor's wrist, but his grip was firm. "Let go!" he choked out. "You're hurting me!"

The Doctor's eyes had narrowed and darkened, but now they widened slightly, and he released Turlough. The young man fell to his knees, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar as he inhaled several ragged breaths.

With a shaking hand, the Doctor removed the device from his pocket and quickly passed it over his own eyes then pressed it to his brow. Still, his voice seemed to shake slightly when he asked, "Are you all right, Turlough?"

The Trion looked up lividly. "No, I'm not all right! You damn near strangled me!" He began to stand, but the Doctor immediately moved the device before his eyes then finished with his forehead before helping Turlough to his feet.

Tegan stood with her arms wrapped around herself, tears welling in her eyes. She appeared terrified.

"It's all right, Tegan," the Doctor said, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to sound comforting as he lifted the device toward her eyes.

She twisted her head away in fear, her eyes huge and mouth open; she was nearly panting.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured her, but he found that he had to exert a small amount of force to hold her head still in order to administer the treatment. When he had finished she began to sink to the ground. Her took her arms and helped her to stand.

After a few seconds she looked at him in some surprise. "What happened?" she asked.

"You don't remember?"

She shook her head. "Oh—you were holding Turlough—Doctor, you were choking him!"

The Time Lord looked back at Turlough. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "We have to get to the transmitter as soon as possible. The effects have intensified, and our treatments are lasting less than half an hour. We need to keep moving."

They walked briskly, led by the Doctor. Their rapid pace was two-fold; it would advance them to their destination faster, and it seemed to keep everyone quiet as they focused on the trek. Less conversation appeared to keep the group calmer.

When a movement caught Tegan's eye again as she glanced back, she remained silent, remembering the repercussions of her voiced concerns earlier. The rational part of her knew that it was impossible that anyone had followed them, but her emotional core could not forget Kol's livid face when he had come to her room looking for her.

Turlough focused on walking without too much discomfort. He sincerely hoped that the transmission station would have a few supplies, chief among them some pain relievers. He had hated the gritty bitterness of aspirin when he was at school. Even water did not remove the taste from his mouth completely. Yet now he would gladly chew two aspirin dry if it meant some alleviation of the constant tightness in his neck and aching of his head.

When the Doctor finally said, "That must be it," his two companions were vastly relieved. Tegan longed for the sanctuary of the solid looking building, while Turlough yearned for its provisions. The two young people actually sprinted ahead of the Doctor in their eagerness to reach the building.

As they neared it, they saw that it was constructed of gray block without any visible windows. On the top were several large wire structures and a small dome. A narrow metal door appeared to be the only point of access.

The Doctor knocked on the door, calling out, "Hello! Mr. Druus has sent us."

He turned the handle easily, and the door swung open into a dark hallway.

"The light bulb's broken," Tegan observed, pointing at the fixture on the ceiling.

The Doctor removed a small torch from his pocket. "Keep your eyes open," he advised. "I don't have a good feeling about this."

They walked cautiously down the hallway, Tegan keeping close to the Doctor's side. There were two additional doors, one on either side, near the end of the passageway. Slowly and quietly the Doctor opened the door to his left. The room was dark and still. He shone the light inside to reveal a bunkbed, a small table with two chairs, several cabinets, and a kitchenette.

"This must be their living quarters," the Doctor said softly.

He stepped inside and ran his hand along the wall until he found a light switch. In an instant the room was illuminated, but the lights did little to lessen the dull, drab feel of the place. The walls were unpainted and unadorned save for a photo of an elderly woman smiling benignly. Two shoddy armchairs, of the same style as those found in the resort's rooms but showing much more use, sat in one corner before a small screen resembling a television. A few books and magazines were strewn about on the table and beds, and a stack of dirty dishes overflowed from the diminutive sink.

"Obviously men," Tegan said with a hint of disgust.

"They must be in the other room," said Turlough said, turning back to the door.

"There's another door," the Doctor pointed out, walking toward a small portal beyond the beds.

"Probably a bathroom," offered Tegan. "And not a very tidy one if this room is any indication."

"Not all men are slobs," Turlough chided.

Tegan rolled her eyes. "And I suppose your room at school was neat as a pin."

"Yes, it was. I kept all of my things in order—"

"Except your friends." Tegan's tone had turned scathing.

"He wasn't my friend—" Turlough began, his voice rising.

The Doctor had poked his head into the bathroom. Now he stepped back into the living room with a deep frown. His expression stopped his companions momentarily from their building argument.

"There's no one here," he said. "But there is blood in the sink."

Tegan paled. "How much?" she asked.

"Enough to show that someone has been hurt."

Turlough said, "The transmissions would affect them, too."

"Let's check the other room," the Doctor proposed gravely.

The second room was much larger, and several small lights glowed overhead. A variety of machinery whirred and hummed throughout the space.

"See if you can find any other lights," the Doctor instructed, squinting in the dimness as he looked about.

Tegan remained near the door, but Turlough moved away to feel along the walls. After a few seconds he said, "Here it is," and the room lit up brightly. He moved off toward the Doctor. "Have you found anything?"

His query was answered by Tegan's scream.


	6. Chapter 6

Tegan had backed out into the dark hallway, her hand clamped over her mouth. The Doctor emerged from behind a large generator to hurry out to her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking about.

She pointed with shaking fingers inside the doorway.

Taking her arm and leading her inside, the Doctor stationed her near the door then turned to the area toward which she had indicated. Turlough was already kneeling next to a prone figure. The man lay upon his back. His palms were literally charred, and his open eyes stared without vision, an expression of shock locked onto his face.

Tentatively the Doctor pressed his fingers against the man's neck. "He's dead," he confirmed with little surprise. He passed his fingers over the man's eyes to lower the lids.

"What happened to him?" asked Turlough.

"It appears that he was electrocuted."

"An accident?"

"Possibly."

"There's no blood on him. Where did the blood in the sink come from?"

"Druus said there were two men here, the engineer and his assistant. Perhaps the other man was hurt trying to help him."

"Then where is he now?"

The Doctor and Turlough stood to search about the room, but they found only the machinery. Tegan remained near the door, staring at the dead man.

Pausing near a large piece of equipment, the Doctor said, "Why don't you two go and search around outside? Druus said that the men alternated breaks at the resort, so they must have a vehicle. See if you can find it, or if you notice any tracks indicating that he's driven away."

Turlough moved toward the door, but Tegan blocked his exit.

"Are you coming?" he snapped at her.

She blinked. "What?"

"I said are you coming to look for the vehicle?"

"I—" she hesitated, appearing confused by his words, then her eyes returned to the electrocution victim. "He's gone." Her voice was flat.

"Yes, we all know that. Are you coming or not?" When she did not respond immediately, he pushed past her. "Fine. I'll go by myself."

"Watch yourself," the Doctor cautioned, glancing up from the machinery. "Tegan, go with him."

"But he's… he's been killed," she said. She had grown terribly pale, and her hands shook.

The Doctor stood and strode toward her. "This isn't the first time you've seen someone who's been killed," he reminded her rather curtly. "It's unfortunate, but we have other things to worry about."

"So much death," she muttered. "They all leave, you know. Even you. One day you're going to leave, too…" Her voice was very soft, and tears welled in her eyes. "Too much death," she said again.

The Doctor grasped her shoulders. "Tegan, try to get a hold of yourself."

His firm tone and grip seemed to rouse her. She blinked at him. "Can we at least move him?" she asked plaintively. "He shouldn't just have to lie there…"

The Doctor took the man's wrists and dragged him across the hall to the living quarters, where he quickly spread a blanket over the body. He shut the door behind himself and returned to the control room. Tegan remained near the doorway; she had not moved since he left. He took her arm and led her with him back to the piece of equipment that had occupied his brief attention.

"Sit here," he instructed, guiding her down to the ground. "I may need your help."

"Too much," she mumbled again, "too many dead. It could have been you. He wouldn't have cared if it were you."

Without responding to her, the Doctor knelt to remove the front panel from the machine.

* * *

Turlough had searched all around the building. At the back he had found a covered area where several containers of a substance smelling much like petrol sat beside a large, empty space. He saw tire tracks leading out and around the building, back toward the resort. The second man must have gone to get help. It was curious, though, that they had not passed him on their journey. Perhaps he knew of a shorter way to make the trip.

The deep aching in Turlough's head and neck had not diminished. He returned to the building in search of pain killers. He went directly to the living quarters, barely noticing the covered body on the floor. He searched the kitchenette cabinets with no success then headed into the small bathroom. The white sink had rust-colored smears on the edges, but otherwise the fixtures were quite clean.

"She thinks she knows everything," he hissed. "She doesn't know a damn thing."

He flung open the mirrored cabinet above the basin and scanned several small, plastic bottles, finally reaching for one to skim the label. Satisfied, he removed the lid and shook two tablets into his hand, then shook out one more. He swallowed them without water, grimacing at their bitter taste. He turned on the tap and bent to scoop a handful of water into his mouth.

He did not realize that he had received a blow to the back of his head until he felt himself sinking to the floor, blackness quickly enveloping him. His one brief thought was that he was glad he had taken the aspirin.

* * *

Tegan had drawn her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, hunching into a tight ball. She rocked her shoulders back and forth, her feet moving off of the ground and back down in an odd, arrhythmic manner.

"Tegan, stay still!" the Doctor enjoined after several minutes of the incessant tapping.

"What?" she asked after a moment.

"I can't concentrate with you rocking about like that. And I could use Turlough here to help me with these wires. Go and find him." This was not a request; it was a command.

"But he might be outside," she protested. "I don't want to go out there—there's someone out there. I saw him hiding in the bushes—"

"Tegan, there is no one out there! I've already told you that it's impossible that we were followed. Now go and get Turlough."

Hesitantly she stood, but the look he gave her impelled her toward the door. She stepped out into the hall, her eyes moving carefully in each direction. Despite the Doctor's words, she was loath to leave the building. She walked slowly toward the exterior door then opened it cautiously to peer outside. "Turlough?" she called softly, leaning out to look about. There was no response.

Tegan stepped back inside and shut the door. Even in the hallway she had an eerie sense that she was being watched. Quickly she walked to the living quarters but began to back away when she saw the covered body. A flash of copper, however, caught her eye as she glanced at the open bathroom door. Trying to quell the rush of emotion that the dead body brought, she took a few steps toward the lavatory. Turlough lay upon the floor.

Tegan hurried to him. He lay on his side, his hands and ankles bound behind him

"Turlough!" she cried, shaking his shoulder.

He groaned and opened his eyes. "What did you do to me?" he asked groggily.

"Me?"

"You hit me… you crept up behind me and hit me!" Now he stared at her with mounting anger.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've wanted to do it all along, haven't you? You were just waiting for the right moment—" He tried to sit up but discovered the restraining ropes. "You little bitch! You tied me up?"

Tegan's emotions had quickly escalated with his accusations. "I wish I had! And you're right—someone should have stopped you a long time ago. I should have thrown you out of the TARDIS myself!"

Turlough frowned. "What do you mean you wish you had?"

"I mean just that—I wish I'd done it."

"You didn't?"

"No."

Turlough's eyes darted around the room. "Then who did?"

Tegan stood and turned toward the control room. "We have to warn the Doctor—there's someone here. I knew there was—I knew it."

"Wait!" he cried. "Untie me!"

She spun back to face him. "How do I know I can trust you? Maybe you've been involved in this all along. How did you know what the tattoos meant?" She bent and reached behind him to grasp his cuff. "Oh God, you're one of them!"

"You stupid idiot! How the hell could I be one of them? I've never been here before. I don't know any of these people."

She stood again and began to move toward the door.

"You're going to face whoever did this alone?" he sneered. "You, Little Miss Coward, Little Miss Whiney-to-the-Point-of-Blows? Little Miss-I-Can't-Stand-to-See-a-Dead-Body—"

"Shut up!" Tegan's foot moved abruptly toward Turlough's head.

He jerked away, a look of true surprise on his face. The toe of her pump collided with the base of the toilet.

"I didn't think you had it in you," he spat.

Tegan stared at her foot for a moment, the thrum of pain shocking her back to rationality. She lifted her head to meet her reflection in the mirror: She saw a mask of anger. Taking a breath, she knelt to reach for Turlough's hands. "It's the transmissions," she said, her voice shaking in her efforts to suppress her ire and trepidation.

With trembling hands, she untied the ropes. Turlough had calmed less, and the moment his hands and feet were free he stood and stormed out of the room. Tegan followed behind him, anxious to speak with the Doctor.

As soon as they entered the control room, Tegan cried, "Doctor!" hurrying toward the equipment that had recently occupied him. "Someone knocked out Turlough and tied him up—"

The moment she saw the Doctor's face, she knew that he was aware of the events. Directly behind him stood the bartender from the resort, pressing a gun against the Time Lord's temple. He held the Doctor's arms behind his back.

"Yes, Tegan, I know," the Doctor growled, clearly enraged but unable to act upon his emotions.

"Back across the hall," the bartender ordered, pushing the Doctor forward.

Frightened for her friend's life, Tegan complied unquestioningly. Turlough, however, lunged for their captor. The bartender's arm shot out, whipping the gun across the Trion's face, striking him on the jaw. Turlough faltered to his knees.

"Bring him," the bartender commanded, waving the gun briefly at Tegan then ramming its barrel into the Doctor's temple again.

Tegan grabbed Turlough's arm and helped him to stand then led him back to the living quarters, followed by the bartender and the Doctor.

"Into the bathroom," was the brief order issued as they entered the quarters.

The three travelers crowded into the small lavatory as the bartender backed away slightly, still pointing the gun at the Doctor. "Open the cabinet," he instructed.

The Doctor complied.

"The razors," barked the bartender, "give them to me." He held out his hand, the gun unwavering.

The Doctor placed the requested items on his palm. The bartender stepped back to close the door.

"Wait!" the Doctor said sharply. "Why? Why do this to all those people?"

"Money," was the simple, jeering reply.

"You work for one of the other resort corporations, don't you?" the Doctor asked. "You're one of the only employees without a bracelet—you aren't from the penal colony. You were sent to sabotage this facility—"

The bartender smiled viciously. "You think you're clever, don't you? You've got it all figured out—"

A second man appeared behind their captor. He was young, perhaps twenty-five, as was the bartender. He had the same aggressive expression on his face, magnified somewhat by a long slash down his cheek. He held a blowtorch in his hand.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go."

The Doctor glared at the newcomer. "You were the engineer's assistant—you reset the transmitter."

The assistant glowered back. "You are clever," he gibed.

"He actually thought he could fix it, too," the bartender said derisively.

"Thought?" the Doctor repeated irately. "No, I knew I could. I was very close—"

The assistant snorted. "And then you'd have returned them all to happy zombies—the most satisfied guests in the galaxy, clambering to return at every opportunity, making money hand over fist for Sanadia—"

The bartender glanced at his cohort. "That's enough. Did you set it?"

The assistant appeared momentarily miffed by this interruption, but he nodded. "Yeah."

"How long?" asked the bartender.

"Just over an hour. We'll be long gone by then." The assistant reached for the doorknob and slammed the door.

The Doctor pounded furiously against the solid metal. "What have you done?" he demanded.

There was a slight whooshing sound and a curious smell. The assistant's voice was muffled, but his perverse pleasure in the information he shared was still evident. "I've set one of the machines to its highest level—which will cause it to explode when the pressure becomes too great. This entire building will go up in the blast. I'll return to the resort, and when the Federation authorities arrive, and they will, I'll tell them all about the transmitter—reluctantly, of course—and Sanadia's filthy little secret will be exposed. And it won't hurt that three helpful guests will be killed in the blast. That's even more of a stain on the company's reputation."

"Wait!" the Doctor shouted, but there was no response; the bartender and assistant had left. The Time Lord raised his arms and slammed his fists against the door in wrath. The device fell from his pocket and landed with a clatter on the tile floor.

He lowered his arms to stare at the object, then with some effort steadied his shaking hands and retrieved the device. Quickly he switched it on and performed the procedure upon himself. His hand dropped from his forehead, the device nearly falling from his fingers as he leaned into the door. After a few seconds he took a deep breath then turned his attention to his companions.

Turlough was slumped against the wall, still slightly dazed from the gun's blow. Blood dripped from the outer edge of his lip. Tegan was pressed into the corner near the shower, her eyes wide with fear. She had clasped her wrists in front of her chest, her fingers digging spasmodically into her palms. The Doctor was careful to administer the treatment to her in full. He gave her shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze then moved over to Turlough.

The young man was just regaining his full awareness, and his anger was building quickly. The Time Lord moved the device in front of his eyes then pressed it against his forehead. The instrument emitted a small, forlorn half-beep and switched off. With a doleful shake of his head, the Doctor dropped it into his pocket then studied Turlough's face for a moment.

"Turlough?" he asked. "How are you doing?"

The Trion squinted then rubbed at his neck and the back of his head. "Just great," he muttered.

"But your anxiety and aggression levels have decreased?"

Turlough shrugged. "Yes, I suppose so."

Tegan moved away from the corner to stand next to the Doctor. She pointed at his pocket "Is that it, then? Is it done?"

"It has one usage remaining."

"Just one?" Tegan asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Can you spread it out—give each of us just a little?"

"Possibly," he replied. "But I was hoping to use it to fix the transmitter."

"Really?" Tegan was surprised. "It can't have that much power—"

"It doesn't, but if I can link it to the transmitter, its circuitry can direct the transmitter's circuits."

"Which would be all well and good if we had any way to get out of here," Turlough said miserably. "I assume they've locked the door."

"Yes, and welded it shut for good measure," said the Doctor.

"Welded it?" Turlough echoed. "Oh, that's just great."

"Cheer up, Turlough," the Doctor said rather brightly. "Where there's a will there's a way." He turned his attention to the door.

Tegan took a washcloth from the towel bar and ran some water over it. She lifted it toward Turlough's chin.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"You've cut your lip," she said, wiping away the blood.

He watched her for a moment. "Thanks," he finally said, reaching up to rub at the back of his head.

She turned on the tap again and rinsed the cloth then folded it into a small, thick square and saturated it in the cool water. "Sit down," she instructed, nodding at the toilet.

He arched an eyebrow at her but complied. She bent his head forward and trailed her fingers over his hair until he winced at the tender spot. She held the cloth gently over the site.

The Doctor ran his hands over the door, knocking occasionally at it then inspecting the hinges. He turned back to Tegan and Turlough after a few minutes, mildly surprised to see her standing over Turlough and pressing a cloth to his head. He stepped toward them and lifted Tegan's hand to scrutinize the new lump.

"A matched set," he said wryly.

Turlough winced as the Doctor returned the cloth to its place. "Just my luck," he muttered.

The Doctor turned away to the study the open medicine cabinet. He handed a bottle to Turlough. "Take a couple of these," he suggested.

Turlough replied, "I already did, but they aren't helping much. Is there anything stronger?"

The Doctor removed several bottles, turning them over in his hands. "Hmm," was his only comment. He bent to peer into the small cupboard beneath the sink. After a minute he emerged with a bottle in each hand. "These should do nicely."

Turlough stared at the item "Bathroom cleanser? No thank you. I'm not in quite enough pain to want to drink those, but if I get hit one more time I just might consider it."

Oblivious to his companion's comments, the Doctor twisted the caps off of the bottles and moved toward the door.

"What are you doing?" asked Tegan.

"Hmm? Oh, these contain petroleum solvents—highly flammable and combustible in just the right combination.," he replied cheerfully.

"Combustible? And that's a good thing?" Tegan inquired.

"It is if you want to blow off a set of hinges. Does anyone have a match?" The Doctor poured some powder from one of the containers onto each of the two hinges then looked over his shoulder at his companions. "Get into the shower and hold a wet towel over your face," he suggested rather offhandedly.

"What about you?" Tegan asked.

"Oh, I'll use my respiratory bypass system. Now really, do either of you have a match?"

Turlough rummaged around in his jacket pocket then shook his head. Tegan had no pockets and no purse to search. The Doctor watched them rather impatiently then reached into one of his pockets and produced a matchbook. He studied the writing on the cover for a moment, commenting, "Excellent ristafel—best part of that trip to Amsterdam." Glancing back at Tegan and Turlough, he said, "Hurry up! Into the shower!"

Tegan wet two towels then stepped into the stall with Turlough. Both covered their faces with the towels then turned toward the back wall. Tegan jumped when she heard the concussion of the small explosions. Smoke filled the cramped room, and fumes stung her eyes even through the towel. She felt the Doctor take her arm and lead her and Turlough through the smoky lavatory and out into the larger room.

When she lowered her towel, she found the Time Lord smiling proudly. "That worked rather well," he complimented himself. "Now on to the transmitter."

Coughing and blinking back tears, they followed him into the control room. He stopped before the transmitter then turned to face them. His smile had faded, and his expression became serious as he removed the device from his pocket.

"What's the matter, Doctor?" Tegan asked. "Can't you fix it like you thought?"

"I believe that I can. However, there is one small problem." He fiddled with the device for a moment. "As soon as I connect this to the transmitter, it will become useless to us. And if I use the last treatment on any or all of us, this instrument will be useless to the transmitter. I may not be able to finish the repairs before the effects of our last treatment wear off. Do you both understand what that means?"

"We'll have to try not to get emotional," Tegan said hesitantly.

The Doctor nodded gravely. "And time will be of the essence. First I have to try to shut down the machine that has been set to explode, and I will need both of you to help me. But we won't be able to do this if we permit our emotions to take over."

"I'll try," Tegan said softly.

The Doctor gave her a small, sober smile of approval. "Turlough?" he asked.

The Trion nodded. "Yes."

"All right," said the Doctor, "then let's get to work."

Tegan looked around the room; there were dozens of machines whirring away. "Do you know which one he set to explode?" she asked.

"How could he know that?" Turlough responded. "He's not a mind reader."

The Doctor's eyebrow rose momentarily before he said, "We need to find one that has been altered. See if you notice any panels that have been tampered with, or if any of the machines appear to be making an unusual noise."

"Like she'd know!" Turlough said.

"Turlough," the Doctor warned, "try to keep a handle on yourself."

The Trion lad rolled his eyes but refrained from replying. Instead he busied himself with the nearest piece of equipment. Tegan shot him a glare but kept her comments to herself as she cautiously approached one of the generators near the wall.

After ten minutes during which no egregious modifications became evident, Turlough said, "Why not just leave here? The explosion will destroy the transmitter, so everyone's brain waves will return to normal, right?"

The Doctor looked up from the panel he was studying. "Not necessarily. It would be best to reset the transmitter to its original frequency. I'm concerned that the former prisoners will have difficulty with their aggressive impulses—we did, after all, tell Druus to remove their bracelets. So with no transmissions to induce calmer feelings they may pose a significant danger to the guests, as well as to each other."

"So now you're saying that you think this brain wave alteration is a good idea?" Turlough asked.

"For the moment, yes. It seems the best way to keep everyone safe."

Tegan had continued looking at the various pieces of humming equipment, still uncertain what would provide a significant clue to potential malfunction. She rested her hand on the top of a large metal box with several vibrating coils attached to the front.

"Ow!" she cried; the metal was hot.

The Doctor turned to look at her across the room. "Tegan?"

Shaking her hand, she said, "This one's really hot."

He hurried toward her then began examining the machine. "It's definitely producing a great deal of heat," he said, holding his coat tails over the top panel to remove it safely.

"Enough to make it explode?" asked Turlough.

"Possibly." The Doctor continued poking about inside the machinery. After a few minutes he reached inside. Tegan saw his shoulder jerk back, then he removed his hand grasping a thick bundle of wires. "Well, that should stop it," he said.

"So now we just have to fix the transmitter, right?" Turlough asked, already looking longingly at the door.

The Doctor patted the top of the disconnected machine. "Yes, and at least we've given ourselves some time." He returned to the transmitter; he had begun his study of it shortly before the bartender accosted him. "The main circuit board is here," he commented, tapping at a panel on one side. "I'll need something with which to remove it. Tegan, see if you can find a screwdriver. I noticed a large tool box over there." He gestured to the far side of the room.

"I'll go," Turlough offered. "I've probably got a better idea what to look for."

"I'm perfectly capable of finding a screwdriver!" Tegan responded tartly.

The Doctor shook his head. "One of you just go!"

Turlough pushed past Tegan. "You could at least excuse yourself!" she scolded as he stalked away.

"Tegan," the Doctor cautioned, "watch yourself. You have to remain calm."

"It was his fault! He's not even trying—"

"I'm sure he is, in his own way."

Tegan crossed her arms over her chest and leaned heavily against the wall. "Fine, I'll be the bigger person."

The Doctor returned to his work without further comment. Turlough brought several different screwdrivers, and soon the Time Lord had removed the panel and begun to investigate the machine's circuitry. "I need something to crimp the wires," he said, removing the device from his pocket and beginning to dismantle it.

Turlough walked off again, failing to see the scowl on Tegan's face that followed him. A few clinks were audible as he rummaged through the tools.

"Doctor!" he exclaimed abruptly.

The Doctor looked up. "What is it?"

"This machine over here—it's smoking!"

The Doctor and Tegan hastened toward him; he stood next to a large compressor unit. Smoke seeped through the small spaces in the casing, wafting up into the air. "This must be the one he reset!" Turlough said, pointing.

The Doctor quickly assessed the machine. "The other one must have simply generated heat as part of its operation," he muttered.

"How long do we have?" Turlough asked. "He said an hour, and it's been, what? Half an hour at least."

"Something like that," said the Doctor, already preoccupied with the machine. "I should have kept looking," he murmured.

Turlough turned to Tegan. "This is your fault! If you hadn't gotten all bothered by a little heat from a machine—"

"My fault?" she repeated. "It is not!"

Turlough ignored her comment. "You're probably going to get us all killed."

"Me? Get us all killed? You've got nerve saying that! You're the one who kept the Black Guardian a secret—you're the one who almost got us killed. And you did it on purpose!"

The Doctor seemed to appear between them in an instant. "Stop it, you two!" he ordered. "You have to control yourselves." It was clear that he was working hard to do as he'd instructed. His jaw was clenched, as was his fist. He opened his hand slowly, stretching out the fingers in a purposeful gesture of self-control.

"I need both of you to do this," he continued.

"Why not just pull the plug, like you did on the other one?" asked Turlough, his voice deep with resentment.

"Because the wires to this one run into the ground. I don't know how this has been rigged. Pulling out the wires may result in instantaneous combustion."

"Then let's just get out of here," Turlough began. "Let the damned thing explode."

The Doctor's hand clenched again. "I told you," he said with forced evenness, "we can't do that. It will result in too many people being harmed."

"As if he'd care about that," Tegan scoffed. "All he cares about is himself!"

"That's enough!" The Doctor took Tegan's arm and pulled her toward the wall. "Stand right here, and keep your mouth shut."

Turlough's mouth twisted in sneering satisfaction, but the Doctor's hand on his arm altered his expression. He was pushed toward the opposite side of the machine. "And you," the Time Lord directed firmly, "stay here. And don't say another word!"

The Doctor returned to the machine glaring at his companions. "You've both wasted valuable time with your petty arguments." A deep frown seemed emblazoned on his brow, darkening his features and erasing his usually benign expression. "All I asked was that you keep yourselves under control—and you can't even do that—either one of you!"

Tegan opened her mouth, but his fierce glare silenced her. "No more!"

He worked in silence for several minutes while the air between his two companions thickened with ire. Turlough had returned to rubbing at his neck, and the incessant motion grated on Tegan's nerves as palpably as if he were scraping his nails over a chalkboard. When the Doctor finally snapped at her to kneel at his side and hold several wires for him, she complied reluctantly, obstinately preferring to bore into Turlough with her furious stare. She tried to look around the machine at him, but the Doctor barked at her,"Tegan! Keep your eyes on these wires!"

She heard Turlough's satisfied grunt and began to drop the wires, but the Doctor turned to her with a sharp whisper. "The bigger person," he hissed, then added, "And if you drop these, this may very well explode."

She swallowed hard, working for a moment to suppress some of her anger. He had chosen her to assist him; he had trusted her, not Turlough. She nodded slightly in grim gratification and tightened her grip on the wires.

"She won't be able to do it."

Turlough's voice seemed to float above her. She looked up to see him standing over her, his face a mask of mockery. Without thinking she opened her fingers and dropped the bundle of wires to stand.

"Tegan!" the Doctor shouted, slamming his hand down on her shoulder to force her back down to the ground. He scooped the wires up in his other hand before they hit the floor then grabbed her wrist and pressed them back into her hands. He was livid.

"Do not move a muscle!" he yelled. "You will kill us if you do!"

Turlough snorted. "I told you she—"

The Doctor shot up, his hands reaching for the Trion's collar. "And you! You're of absolutely no help here. Go back to the transmitter and unwind the wires; you'll see where I started." He released Turlough's collar and pushed him back slightly. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

Turlough lifted his hand, already balled into a fist, and seemed to consider for a moment whether or not to use it. However, the Doctor had ducked back down behind the machine, so he stalked back to the transmitter. He would show the Doctor and Tegan how useful he was. She was incapable of working with wires; she was incapable of most things. And he understood—what? What did he understand? He had not understood that the Doctor would take him home. He had never stopped to consider that all he needed to do was ask. Instead he made an instant agreement with the Black Guardian, an agreement that required murder… He was loathsome. His instinct on Striker's ship had been the right one. He wished that Captain Wrack had not rescued him; he had fully intended to die. Turlough sank down the wall until his legs were stretched out upon the floor. The wiring forgotten, he scrubbed furiously at the back of his neck.

Tegan continued to hold the bundle of wires, kept to task only by the Doctor's intense glare. As his hands moved over the wires and circuits, he seemed to calm somewhat. He could see that he was making progress, and having a specific task to occupy his thoughts helped him to focus. After a few minutes he had checked his emotions sufficiently to speak reasonably to Tegan.

"You're doing fine," he said. "Just keep holding those wires off of the ground."

She glanced at him hesitantly, still upset but drawn by his more cordial tone. She saw that his expression had softened. He now appeared quite intent, but much of the darkness had left his face. "How much longer will it take?" she asked, her own irritation mitigated in the wake of his demeanor.

"Only a few more minutes, I think."

"So you'll finish in time? There won't be an explosion?"

"If we can keep working steadily like this, no."

Tegan nodded and returned her gaze to the wires she held. She gathered them toward her more securely, her eyes wandering along their length. "They stretch a long way," she commented.

"Do they?" The Doctor continued working, but after perhaps half a minute he looked back at her. "Can you see how far they go?"

She craned her neck. The wires were threaded beneath other machines, but there was one green strand that she could discern stretching toward the wall where the transmitter lay. "Pretty far," she replied.

The Doctor reached back behind several moving parts, coughing as a puff of smoke spurted from nearby. His head vanished. Tegan could feel heat radiating from the interior of the machine.

"Doctor, it's getting hotter, and there's more smoke," she began.

"I'm almost finished," he said, his voice tightening again.

Her voice rose in growing anxiety. "But it's getting worse—"

"I told you I'm nearly there," he replied tersely.

"But what if you can't do it in time? Maybe we should just run—"

"Tegan! I told you that I can do it!" He dropped a screwdriver, which landed on his foot. "Ah!" he grunted. "I need that!"

Tegan adjusted the wires quickly so that she held them in her right hand then reached for the screwdriver with her left. She picked it up and pressed it into the Doctor's hand, her fingers brushing against his palm.

"Thank you," he said shortly, withdrawing his hand back toward the machine's innards. However, he paused for a moment. His fingers moved back toward Tegan's hand. He ran his thumb over her fingers, saying, "Trust me, Tegan" before quickly pulling his hand away.

She had found his brief touch surprisingly calming. For a minute she sat quietly, watching the Doctor's back as he worked. His shoulders moved up and down, soot beginning to stain his jacket. The smoke was thickening. She felt her eyes prickle with tears, and breathing was becoming painful. She coughed.

"Doctor," Tegan rasped, "there's a lot more smoke now—"

"I'm well aware of that! I just need a few more minutes."

She coughed again. Now the Doctor was obscured in the heavy smoke. Perspiration gathered on her forehead, dripping down into her eyes. Her hands were wet, and her arms felt like jelly. She wanted to continue holding the wires, needed to keep them in her grasp, but her head was swimming…

Suddenly she felt something tug at her shoulder as the wires fell from her hands. She tried to cry out her protests, but her voice failed her. Ears roaring, she felt a blow to her chest, then she was thrust backward, sliding across the floor on her back. She and the Doctor had failed; the machine had exploded. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the flames to engulf her.


	7. Chapter 7

"Up you come."

The rough voice filtered hazily through Tegan's ears. She felt herself lifted to her feet, though her legs seemed reluctant to support her. She blinked and tried to focus her eyes. The room appeared foggy; then she remembered the smoke. She was pulled along until the air cleared somewhat. Finally she was able to breathe.

She found herself leaning against the Doctor. His jacket was grey from the smoke, and his face was smudged with soot.

"We survived the explosion?" she asked hoarsely.

He frowned. "Explosion? No, the machine didn't explode. I've disabled it."

"But I dropped the wires," she began. "I'm sorry—I just couldn't—"

"You were overcome by the smoke," he said bluntly. "A human failing, I'm afraid."

Scowling at his last comment, she asked, "Then what happened?"

The Doctor nodded over his shoulder. Tegan saw that Turlough stood a few feet behind them. Remnants of smoke clung to him, too. His expression was cheerless.

"He took the wires from you just in time," the Doctor explained.

Tegan rubbed at her chest; her sternum was decidedly sore. "Something hit me."

The Time Lord glanced down at the hand pressed against her chest. "He had to get you out of the way."

She turned to face Turlough. "So you did what? Hit me?"

"Kicked, actually," he replied laconically. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

She took a step toward him, but the Doctor restrained her with an outstretched arm. "And if he hadn't, we would all be dead. He saved all of our lives."

Now the look Tegan shot the Trion was one of surprise. "It must have been an accident," she muttered. "Or else he was just trying to save himself."

"Hardly," Turlough mumbled vehemently.

"Not trying to save yourself?" Tegan jeered. "Trying to do something for someone else? Trying to save the Doctor? As if you'd ever consider—"

Turlough glowered at her. "I did," he shot back.

"Oh right," she hissed. "When? Tell me when you thought of saving him," she goaded angrily.

Turlough's face had reddened in indignation and rage. She had no idea; she didn't even know what he'd done. Her mocking expression drove him to blurt out, "On Striker's ship! All right? I threw myself overboard so that the Black Guardian would leave the Doctor alone!"

Tegan's mouth snapped shut as she regarded him with momentary awe. The Doctor watched him, too, then gave a curt nod of appreciation.

Turlough shrugged. "Let's get back to the transmitter," he said rather sharply. "Then we can all get out of here."

"And the Doctor can take you home."

Turlough replied mordantly, "I think that was the plan."

* * *

Tegan's temper had settled slightly with Turlough's revealing outburst, but his mood became even more sullen. His hands shook as he attempted to disentangle the wires on the transmitter, finally causing the Doctor to send him away. The Trion now stood just outside the exterior door of the building, watching the sun set over the hills. The impending darkness did nothing to change his mood. His neck and head still throbbed mercilessly, and his irritability seemed to grow exponentially as he remembered his experience on Striker's and Wrack's ships.

When Tegan called to him to return to the control room, he spun around furiously. "Leave me alone!" he spat.

She hesitated, seeming to consider his request with a deepening frown, then relented. "The Doctor wants you back inside," she finally said, emphasizing the subject of her brief sentence to stress that the entreaty was not from her. Without waiting for his reply, she turned and stalked back down the hall.

He waited until she had vanished from his sight to follow her, finally plowing through the corridor with one hand thrust deep into his pocket and the other gripping at his neck. When he entered the room, he found the Doctor and Tegan crouching next to the transmitter.

"It's about time," Tegan said reproachfully when she saw him.

"That's quite enough!" the Doctor interjected, clearly fighting to remain in control of his own raw emotion. "You both need to know that I'm very close to completing the repairs, but there is going to be one significant spike in the transmission before I can readjust it to stimulate only delta and theta waves."

"What does that mean?" Tegan asked testily, perturbed by the Time Lord's constant insistence on scientific jargon. Perhaps he did it solely to vex her…

"That means," he said rather condescendingly, "that all of us are going to experience a sharp increase in our beta wave production for a few minutes, and our emotions—aggression, fear, and anger—are going to increase as well. I—" he hesitated; Tegan could see him take a deep, steadying breath. "I am going to require all of my concentration to complete the final part of the repairs. This means that both of you must keep yourselves in control."

"Maybe he should go back outside," Tegan huffed, pointing at Turlough.

"Fine by me," Turlough replied irritably. "The farther away the better."

"No." The Doctor's voice was firm. "You will both remain here in case I need your help. And you will refrain from goading each other in any way. Is—that—understood?"

Tegan nodded somewhat resentfully. Turlough merely rubbed harder at his neck as his frown deepened.

The Doctor returned to the transmitter while his companions stood silently. Within a minute all in the room could feel the increase in tension. Turlough's neck and head seemed to explode with pain, and his hostility deepened, gnawing into his gut, echoing self-loathing through his soul.

Tegan's eyes darted about the room. Her heart pounded as waves of fear washed over her. There were so many threats, so many ways to be hurt or killed. She had been in mortal danger so many times—the Mara, the Cybermen, and they had killed Adric, murdered him in a massive explosion intended to destroy the Earth, her home… Her fingers clawed at the wall behind her.

The Doctor had only a few wires to connect and three switches to alter, but his fingers refused to cooperate. His knowledge, his aptitude, his wealth of skills were vanishing. He could not fail in this. Yet with each slip of his fingers his agitation grew, twisting inexorably into a deep sense of rage at his failure. When the wires slid out of his shaking clutch once again he slammed his hand against the side of the transmitter. "No!" he shouted.

His cry hit Tegan like a blow. She started, her head whipping around to see what had made the fierce noise. The Doctor's face clearly conveyed his fury, and it terrified her. She backed up into the corner as far as she could, pressing her shoulders into the walls so hard that they ached, but the pain barely registered with her. This man—hadn't he been her friend?—was livid, and she felt certain that he was going to attack her. She turned her face to the wall, lifting her arms over her head to shield herself as she began to whimper.

Her sobs grated on Turlough, immediately redirecting his emotion outward. "Stop it!" he yelled at her. "Stop that noise!"

Steeling himself with the last reserves of his self-control, the Doctor reached for the wires one more time. His fingers grappled with them, and he cursed in Gallifreyan, his unintelligible words even more appalling to Tegan than his shout. He was not the man she knew. He was something else, something alien, something very, very dangerous…

Turlough's hands were pressed against his temples in an ineffectual effort to staunch his pain. "Stop it!" he cried over and over, but now he had lost all sense of the direction of his words. Through his lowered eyelids, he caught a flash of movement, but he did not bother to open his eyes. It was Tegan's scream that finally roused him for an instant from his trance of agony.

The scream drew the Doctor's attention, too. Automatically he looked up, still clamping his fingers over the wires. Tegan was cowering in the corner, and Turlough was towering over her, wrapping his hands in her hair and jerking her head up.

"Stop that!" the Doctor commanded, a tiny shred of human concern still burbling within him. He began to stand, shouting, "Turlough! Get away from her!"

From across the room, a voice cried, "I'm nowhere near her!"

The Doctor's eyes shot toward the sound. Turlough stood several meters from Tegan, but the Trion had now focused his bleary gaze upon her and her attacker. As if waking from a nightmare, he stumbled forward toward Kol.

"I must fix it, must do it now," the Doctor muttered, his eyes moving quickly from Tegan and Kol to the wires. He plunged his hand inside the transmitter, wincing as Tegan screamed again.

Kol had pulled her up by her hair and slammed her head back against the wall. She was dazed, beginning to slide down, but he grabbed her hair again and forced her up as he clenched his right hand into a fist. He raised his arm in preparation for a wicked and terrible blow to her face. She watched in silent, paralyzed horror as his fist shot forward, her eyes closing over the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Tegan braced herself for the blow, but instead all she heard was a small thud. She opened her eyes cautiously to see Kol and Turlough falling to the ground. The Trion held a wrench in his hand. He and Kol were struggling, clawing and kicking at each other, edging away from her and toward the Doctor. Turlough lifted his arm to swing the wrench at Kol, barely missing his temple. Kol grabbed Turlough's wrist, twisting it until the wrench fell from his hand.

Turlough delivered a solid blow with his knee to Kol's ribs then managed to scrabble to his feet. The former prisoner was undeterred; his rage mitigated all sensations of pain. He rose to his knees, seizing the wrench and swinging it at Turlough. The Trion stumbled out of the path of the heavy tool, sending Kol tripping forward.

From his position beneath the transmitter, the Doctor glanced at the fight. With just one more connection the machine would be repaired and would stimulate delta and theta wave activity in all within its range. The effects, he knew, would be even stronger here in the room. Kol's rage would quickly diminish. The Time Lord kept to his work, using his last remnants of willpower to complete the wiring and for the moment ignore his companions' plight, suppressing his own wrath at Kol for his attack.

Turlough and Kol grappled and lurched, now only a few feet away from the Doctor. Kol had lifted the wrench again and managed to grip Turlough's collar. He swung the wrench at his opponent's head. Turlough jerked sideways to avoid the blow, somehow managing to deliver a sharp kick to Kol's ankle. Kol faltered for an instant, and Turlough, strength intensified by his fury, flung the man away.

The Doctor scooted back just as Kol's body slammed into the transmitter, still clutching the wrench. His hand, heavy from the tool, fell toward the open circuitry. The wrench connected with the wires, sending a halo of hissing sparks over Kol. The popping of the arcing wires could not drown out his screams.

As the transmitter's circuits ignited, Turlough stumbled back to Tegan, pushing her against the wall again. The Doctor had scrabbled around the machine and toward his companions as soon as Kol fell. With several swift glances back at the transmitter, he finally stood and took his companions' arms to hasten them out the door and into the hallway. He kept his arm around Tegan, who remained dazed, but dropped his hand from Turlough's forearm to rip open the exterior door. He pushed Turlough outside then dragged Tegan through the doorway.

The explosion shook the building; several concrete blocks extruded from the wall from the force. The Doctor panted, "Down!" and pulled Tegan to the ground as Turlough fell beside them. They lay motionless for nearly a minute, then finally the Doctor lifted his head to look at the building.

"It's over," he said shakily. "It didn't destroy the building."

Turlough sat up. "But the transmitter's gone? And Kol—"

"He can't have survived it. And yes, the transmitter's been destroyed."

Turlough blinked in the twilight. "So no more delta waves?"

"Generated artificially? No."

"But no more beta waves, either," Turlough said, a touch of relief evident in his voice.

"No. We will all experience our normal emotions again." He turned to look at Tegan, who still lay upon the ground. She was just beginning to lift her shoulders. The Doctor gently took her arms and helped her to sit. "Are you all right?" he asked her, taking her cheeks in his hand. He studied her eyes carefully.

She rubbed at the back of her head for a moment. "I think so."

He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it."

Staring at the building, she asked, "How did he get here?"

The Doctor pointed to a vehicle just beyond the side of the structure. "He drove."

"But I thought all of the vehicles except the one we took were wrecked," Turlough said.

"He must have taken the engineer's assistant's car when he and the bartender returned to the resort," the Doctor surmised.

"He was a mechanic," Tegan said softly, "when he first came here. He said he'd worked his way up…"

The Doctor stood, offering his hand to her to help her to her feet. "We should get back to the resort. I need to tell them about the transmitter so that they can deal with the workers appropriately."

"Do you think they'll have problems?" asked Turlough, standing too.

"Not with everyone, but there may be some who still have violent tendencies," replied the Time Lord.

The Doctor and Turlough had begun walking toward the vehicle, but Tegan remained still, staring at the building. "Was it the transmissions?" she asked.

The Doctor turned his head to look at her. "Pardon?"

"Was it really the transmissions, Doctor, that made him act that way, or was it… was it something I did, something that made him—"

He had returned to her side in several quick steps. "No, Tegan," he said, cupping her chin in his hand, "it wasn't you. You didn't do anything wrong. His emotions were out of control—all of ours were—and that drove him to behave as he did."

She looked up into his face, remembering for a moment the fear she had felt as he shouted and uttered foreign expletives. Now she saw only a benign expression and a touch of concern in his eyes. She nodded and gave him a wan smile. He brushed his thumb over her cheek then turned, dropping his hand but allowing it to rest against her back as they walked to the vehicle.

"Maybe I should drive this time," Turlough said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

The Doctor frowned for an instant then grinned. "Maybe you should." He climbed into the passenger seat as Turlough started the ignition in the small car.


	8. Chapter 8

**Epilogue**

When they returned to the resort, they found that the chaos had settled. A few guests milled about, but no employees were outside on the grounds. Evidence of the earlier disorder abounded, however: broken windows, trampled plants, patio furniture in the pools, and the like. The guests they saw all bore the marks of the pandemonium; bruises, black eyes, and swollen lips seemed the order of the day.

The Doctor led his companions to Druus' office. The resort manager was not at his desk or in the meeting room. They noticed that his desk was in some disarray, and a floor lamp lay broken on the plush carpet. As they looked about, a very disheveled young couple stormed into the room.

"Where is he?" they demanded, clearly angry but showing no overt violent tendencies.

"I don't think he's here," the Doctor replied.

The man said, "Well, if you see him tell him that we're lodging a formal complaint, both to Sanadia and to the Federation. We've already called the Federation authorities. This is the worst vacation we've ever had!"

He took the woman's arm and stomped away.

A small noise caught the Doctor's attention. He pointed toward the meeting room then held a finger to his lips. Walking softly across the carpet, he entered the room silently then strode to a closet in the far corner. He turned the door knob, but the door seemed reluctant to open. With a shake of his head, he gave the door a hard tug and it swung outward, revealing Druus squatting in the closet with his hands held out in an effort to prevent the door from opening.

The Time Lord took Druus' arm and pulled him up. "You can't hide forever," he said.

"I had to," Druus stammered. "They were all after me—they would have killed me." He gestured to his face. His right eye was swollen shut, and his cheeks were bruised and cut. He had obviously taken one or more beatings.

"And you expect us to feel sorry for you?" Turlough asked. "After what you and your corporation caused?"

"It was never supposed to go wrong," the manager said. "It was just to make everyone happy." He mopped at his brow with his filthy handkerchief then looked pleadingly at the Doctor. "But you fixed it? Everyone has calmed down some, but it's not the same as it was before. What did you do?"

"I'm afraid that the transmitter has been destroyed," the Doctor said. "You'll need to watch the former prisoners, or at least those who were convicted for violent crimes. Without the delta and theta wave stimulation, they will behave according to their natures."

Druus nodded. "I got most of them into their rooms and locked them inside—"

"You locked them in?" Tegan asked. "So you knew this could happen?"

"No, of course not, but we had exterior locks installed just in case…"

The Doctor, Turlough, and Tegan frowned at him disapprovingly. "Was anyone killed here?" asked the Doctor.

Druus shook his head. "No."

"Seriously injured?"

The manager hesitated. "There were some broken bones…"

"The engineer has been murdered," the Doctor said unceremoniously.

Druus patted at his forehead again. "Mr. Tarmel? Oh dear. Murdered, you say? By whom?"

"By his assistant. Your bartender, the one from the nearest pool, was in on it, too." The Doctor folded his arms over his chest.

"Kelve? But he wasn't even from the penal colony! He said he wanted to work here because it was such a wonderful place—said he didn't mind that he wouldn't be paid, he just wanted to be a part of Sanadia—"

"He was working for another corporation," said Turlough. "He had the engineer's assistant sabotage the transmitter."

"That traitor!" Druus cried. "After all I did for him—"

"And what did you do for him?" Turlough asked. "Allowed him to work here for no pay? Oh, he must have been so grateful!"

"Has he come back here?" asked the Doctor.

"I haven't seen him," Druus replied, still scowling at Turlough's remark.

"Well, you should try to find him and the engineer's assistant and have them held for the Federation authorities. Some guests have called them. How long will it take them to get here?" the Doctor asked pointedly.

"Oh…three or four hours," stammered Druus, obviously disconcerted by this information.

The Doctor nodded then added, "Kol is dead, too."

"Kol? What happened to him?" Druus asked.

With a glance at Tegan, the Doctor replied sharply, "He came out the to transmission station and attacked Tegan again. Why didn't you see that he was locked up after I told you what he'd done?"

"I…" Druus' eyes flicked to Tegan, but he seemed unwilling to look directly at her. "I didn't think… I mean, I had so many other things to worry about…"

The Doctor turned toward the door but paused. "When the Federation representatives arrive, I want to speak with them. I'll return here in three hours."

"Where are you going?" Druus asked, appearing hesitant to be left alone.

"I have repairs to finish. I think we'd all like to leave here as soon as possible."

He took Tegan's arm gently and led her out the door, Turlough following closely behind.

* * *

The Doctor had returned to the central console as soon as they set foot in the TARDIS. He sent Turlough to retrieve a tool from one of the storage rooms. Tegan remained near the door, watching the Time Lord as he flicked several switches on the control panels. The grime on her face felt heavy, and she wiped her hand over her cheek, forgetting for an instant the tenderness of the bruised flesh.

"Ow!" she muttered, shaking her head.

The Doctor looked up at her. "Are you all right?"

She smiled wanly. "You know me. I'm indestructible." Her tone was less than convincing.

The Doctor glanced back at the switches then moved his gaze to her face. After a moment he left his work to walk toward her.

"Tegan," he began, standing before her to place a tentative hand on her shoulder, "the transmissions brought out the worst in everyone. You understand that, don't you?"

She lowered her eyes. "That's what you told me before—"

"And it is the truth. Don't think for one moment that anything that happened to you was your fault."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I suppose I was pretty awful, too."

"No, not much more so than usual." His flicker of a smile did little to impress the joke upon her.

"Really? I'm not that bad, am I?"

"No, Tegan, of course not. If anyone should apologize for contemptible behavior, it is I."

"I think Turlough could stand to apologize, too." Tegan rubbed at the sore spot on her chest almost subconsciously.

"Perhaps. But he was the one who prevented the transmitter from exploding when you were overcome with smoke, and he kept Kol from hitting you. I seem to remember, too, that he placed his body in front of yours when it seemed the transmitter would explode as Kol fell into it."

Tegan's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "I didn't know that." She seemed immersed in thought for a few seconds, then she continued, "What he said about jumping overboard… Do you think it's true?"

The Time Lord caught her gaze and held it steadily with his own. "Yes."

Turlough returned to the room then, carrying the requested item. He handed it to the Doctor then leaned against the wall in obvious exhaustion.

"How long until we can leave?" he asked.

"Now that the electrical transmissions have ceased, this should only take a few more hours. I'll have you home by tomorrow."

Turlough nodded, but his expression showed none of the excitement that the Doctor and Tegan had thought this information would produce.

"Turlough," said the Doctor rather carefully, "you do still want to go home, don't you?"

The Trion shrugged. "I suppose that would be best for everyone."

"I've found your electrical skills rather helpful. There are several more long-standing projects with which I could use your assistance." The Doctor glanced at Tegan.

She took a few steps toward the door but paused long enough to say, "It's your ship, Doctor. Suit yourself."

* * *

When the Doctor left the TARDIS several hours later to speak with the Federation officials, both Tegan and Turlough opted to remain behind. Neither wished to return to the resort property. Tegan had showered and changed her dress again and felt somewhat happier with her clean apparel. Turlough had disappeared into his room as well, though Tegan was not sure what he was doing and really did not particularly care.

Shortly after the Doctor left, she went to the kitchen to prepare some food, finally feeling hungry after a very taxing day. As she set a bowl of soup on the table, Turlough walked past the open door. He paused to glance inside.

Without really thinking, Tegan said, "I made soup. Do you want some?"

He stepped inside. "I suppose," he replied phlegmatically.

She ladled some soup into a bowl. He had already sat down when she turned back to the table. She saw that he had apparently showered, too. The soot and grime from the fire were gone, and he wore clean clothes. The lump on his forehead was still visible, and his lip remained slightly swollen from the bartender's blow with the gun. She noticed a bruise forming on his jaw, and when he reached for the soup spoon she saw that the knuckles of his right hand were bruised as well.

"You're sort of a mess," she said.

He shrugged and took a spoonful of soup.

"Did you hurt your hand fighting with Kol?" she asked somewhat hesitantly.

He glanced down. "I suppose so."

Tegan pulled out a chair and sat down. "Why did you fight him?"

He looked up at her, surprise evident in his expression. "He was attacking you, Tegan."

"I know, but—" She paused. "I didn't think you'd… I mean, that was…"

"At a loss for words?" he chaffed. "That's a first."

She began to frown, but his small smile showed his intent. "I just meant," she said, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

She ate a few spoonfuls of soup then looked up at him again. "What you said before, about why you jumped overboard, was that true?"

He shrugged again. "Yes."

She set her spoon carefully next to the bowl. "Turlough, if you'd just told us—"

For an instant she saw a stricken expression cross his face, and his hand began to snake back up toward his neck. She shook her head and lowered her eyes without continuing her words. They ate in silence for some time, but finally Tegan asked, "How's your neck?"

Turlough replied, "It's better. The Doctor gave me some sort of heating device to put on it. It helped a lot."

"I'm glad."

Tegan's words were sincere.


End file.
